


search terms

by Vagabond



Series: search terms and related stories [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Found Family, Getting Together, Identity Issues, M/M, Other, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Sexual Identity, Some homophobia expressed but never condoned, There will be a happy ending, no beta i'm too much of a wimp, tags to be added as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-07 21:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: Aziraphale expects it to be a quiet night working in the university library when a flashy red haired, foul mouthed, panicking student needs to find credible sources for his paper and can't figure out how to use the search. Little does Aziraphale know that meeting Crowley will lead him on a path to self-discovery, and give him the family he didn't realize he needed.From a prompt on tumblr: College AU - You’re REALLY GOOD at using the right search terms for the academic databases and I’m on a deadline.





	1. This Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a college AU so here I am, writing a college AU. Whoops? I've been so wildly inspired by all the amazing Human!AUs I've been reading in this fandom that I wanted to try my hand at one.
> 
> Disclaimer: I am an American pretending I know something about the way university works in England. Odds are what I write won't be entirely accurate, I'll use wholly American phrases, and I won't even know the difference. Hopefully that's alright and doesn't take away from the story. The campus, though the university is (as of right now) unnamed, is definitely based on Kings College if only because a colleague attended there for his PhD and liked it. Most things are 100% made up based on my own university experience here in the US. 
> 
> Tags will be updated as I go, as will rating (it is definitely going to go up). I update with a new chapter once I've written a chapter ahead (it keeps me motivated) though depending on where this ends up going, I might switch to a set schedule just to make sure there's not long gaps between chapters. TO BE DETERMINED. Right now I've written through chapter 4 so there should be some rapid succession updates as I edit. 
> 
> ...is that it? I think that's it. Uhh. I hope you like it. I'll add notes as they're relevant. I don't have a beta so all typos are mine. I am very cautiously looking for someone who might be interested in being a very gentle beta. So if you think that's you, hit me up.

It was quiet enough in the library that Aziraphale could hear the gentle whirr of the computer fan even from his spot at the other end of the reference desk. Friday nights, despite papers often being due at midnight, were usually relatively quiet. Unlike his fellow work study colleagues who preferred to skip the Friday night shift in favor of partying, Aziraphale found it a wonderful opportunity to catch up on joy-reading he didn’t get to do during daytime hours. 

He was engrossed in re-reading _ A Picture of Dorian Grey _ when his reverie was interrupted. Aziraphale lifted his gaze from the text in time to see another student, all angles and lanky limbs, make a beeline for the computers. He dropped into one of the chairs unceremoniously, disturbing one of the students working quietly nearby, and aggressively logged in. 

Aziraphale frowned but otherwise said nothing, returning to his book. He had difficulty tuning the other student out, however, as his grumbling and soft curses broke the comforting silence of the library on a Friday night. Aziraphale sighed and once more looked at the perpetrator, warbling between annoyance and pity. He marked his page, set the book down, and made his way out from behind the reference desk. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, standing behind and to the other student’s right. “You looked like you were having some issues.” 

“You’re telling me,” the student pulled off the sunglasses he was wearing and set them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got an astronomy paper due at midnight that I forgot about and I’ve got to find three decent sources on my topic and so far I’ve found nothing.” He groaned and dramatically splayed himself across the chair, running one frustrated hand through fluffy red hair. 

“I’m an idiot,” he lamented, loudly, attracting the attention of the few other students occupying the library which brought an annoyed flush to Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

“Hush, now,” he insisted, “let me see if I can help. What have you tried so far?” 

Aziraphale eventually bullied the boy out of the chair and sat down himself, fixing the advanced search options that he’d somehow cocked up. 

“Did you miss the tutorial day in class?” Aziraphale asked, casting a glance at the student who leaned over his shoulder and peered at the screen, squinting. 

“Tutorial day?” 

“Yes, when the library staff went over how to use the search…” He trailed off when the student pinned him with a blank look. “Clearly not.” He huffed. 

“Oh don’t huff,” the other student scowled, Aziraphale saw it from the corner of his eye. “Maybe none of my professors signed up for it.” 

“I find that highly unlikely, considering it is required. What year are you?” Aziraphale finished fixing the search and hit enter, pleased with the peer-reviewed results that populated the list. 

The other student hesitated as if it were a trick question. “Second,” he finally answered. 

“Then you definitely have no excuse.” Aziraphale shrugged and pushed the chair back, standing up and stepping away to offer the seat. 

“Look,” the student flopped back into the chair, arms crossed over his chest, “if everyone paid attention you wouldn’t have much work to do, right? If anything I’ve practically done you a favor.” 

Now that was funny. Aziraphale scoffed. “You’ve interrupted my reading.” 

“Well sorrrrreeee-y.” He leaned forward toward the computer screen to look at the list. “Holy shit.” 

Aziraphale winced. 

“You did it. These look...shit, these look promising.” He glanced at Aziraphale, giving him a good look at his strangely golden eyes, before he looked back at the screen and pointed. “You’re a genius.” 

Aziraphale shook his head and began to walk away, finding the overreaction a bit ridiculous. 

“Wait you’re just going - you’re going to leave?” The student called out. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale answered, tone measured. “I’ll be back behind the reference desk if you need me. Now please keep it down, others are trying to study.” 

He made his way back to his desk and sat down, picking up the book again. This time, silence and order returned to the library and he was able to dig back in. About fifteen minutes later, he glanced up to find the student peering at him from across the desk. 

“Yes?” Aziraphale prompted. 

“Got the articles,” he held up printed packets, then fidgeted. “So, you know, thanks for that. You’re an angel.” 

“I was just doing my job,” Aziraphale shrugged. 

“I’m, uh, Crowley, by the way.” He reached out his hand and Aziraphale stared at it, momentarily dumbstruck, before he reached out and grasped it.

“Aziraphale.” 

“Oh, Biblical name?” 

Aziraphale cringed. “My parents were a bit...enthusiastic. Your name is a bit curious too.” 

“Oh, it is my surname. First name is Anthony, never liked it much. Friends called me Crowley.” 

“Ah.” 

“Well, I guess I should be going. Paper due by midnight and all that. I owe you one, though. I’ll bring you a coffee or - well, you seem more like a tea guy, huh? Tea sometime, then. Right. See ya.” With that, Crowley hustled out of the library with his articles in hand before Aziraphale could reply that yes, he preferred tea, and that he’d just been doing his _ job _. 

Oh well. 

**

“He what?” Anathema’s face lit up in a grin. “Sounds like a typical procrastinator on a Friday night. He called you an _ angel _ though, even before he knew your name?” 

Aziraphale sighed. They were sitting in the library together during a break between shifts. Anathema was a first year who also took her work study in the library and she’d made it her personal mission to expand the library’s collection of metaphysical texts during her tenure. 

Despite Aziraphale’s skepticism, he enjoyed Anathema’s enthusiasm for her craft and found her generally American outlook on things to be refreshing in the best kind of way. Where he was awkward apologies and social niceties, Anathema tended to blast through the polite walls others put up and in the process endeared herself to them. It was, after all, how she’d managed to make a friend out of Aziraphale. 

“He did,” Aziraphale answered before he popped a piece of cheese into his mouth. He’d brought cheese, crackers, and apples with him for a snack before he started his short afternoon shift. “He was a bit scattered. Loud, too.” 

“Oh come off it Aziraphale, you think anyone speaking above a whisper is being loud.” 

“We’re not being loud and we’re speaking above a whisper,” he pointed out, “he was cussing up a storm, berating the computer. It was uncouth.” 

“Ugh,” Anathema leaned back in her seat and shook her head, “Aziraphale you sound like someone’s grandmother right now.” 

“Well it is true!” He frowned as he bit into a cracker. 

“Do you think he’ll bring you tea?” She asked after a moment of quiet to let him chew and swallow.  
  
“Oh I doubt that very much. It was one of those promises you make in the moment when you’re feeling particularly grateful, not something you follow through on.” After all, other than Anathema, no one went out of their way to do nice things for him. He didn’t expect it, either, which made things simpler all around. 

“Did you get his name?” Anathema tilted her head thoughtfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Oh, yes, Crowley. Well, his first name is Anthony, but he prefers Crowley.” Aziraphale paused and considered Anathema for a moment, “do you know him?” 

“Can’t say I do.” 

“Ah.” Aziraphale fidgeted. 

“Why?” 

“Well he, ah, dresses sort of like you. Dark colors, sort of flash, kind of...goth?” 

Anathema rolled her eyes. “You say goth like the word is going to summon a demon, Aziraphale. A lot of people dress in dark colors and my style is definitely not _ goth _. You wouldn’t know goth if it hit you on the head.” 

“I would,” he answered petulantly. “Dark clothes and heavy eye liner and chains…” 

He trailed off when he realized Anathema was staring at him, barely containing her laughter. 

“Was he cute at least?” Anathema asked, gracefully changing the subject. 

“Sorry?” 

“Crowley, was he cute?” 

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t have noticed.” Aziraphale thought back to a sharp jaw, golden-yellow eyes, and the way Crowley had sprawled across the chair. His cheeks heated. Anathema noticed. 

“Noted,” was all she said with a knowing smirk. 


	2. Tea for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, people can surprise Aziraphale after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one and two were practically written together so I'm posting them together. Enjoy.

While Aziraphale may have insisted to Anathema he believed Crowley had only made the offer of tea to be polite, he held a certain hope that he might follow-through. In a typical week he worked for about twenty hours in the library, an average work study interspersed between classes. For an entire week he did not see a single bright red hair enter the library while he was on shift. 

“Anything?” Anathema asked when she stopped in on a Friday night, her tall, gentle souled boyfriend following suit. 

“My dear, you really ought to stop asking.” Aziraphale was tired of being reminded that hope was foolish. It had been a single moment in a chaotic week between he and a stranger, nothing more. He’d done his job. Anything else he hoped for, regardless of how cute Crowley was, was silly. 

Newt, standing behind her, offered Aziraphale a sympathetic smile that failed to ease the ache of disappointment. 

“You should take Friday off one of these days, Zira,” Anathema said, “come out with us. There’s a great open mic poetry night at Cafe Zero. I bet you’d love it.” 

“I’d rather keep the company of Frost and Yeats, if you don’t mind.” 

Anathema stuck out her tongue. “Be that way, but we’re going to convince you. Right, Newt?” 

“Yes, of course.” Newt smiled at her. They left, and Aziraphale sat in the quiet of the library and wondered how he’d managed to make a friend in Anathema. He was rubbish when it came to that sort of thing and was lucky she was so outgoing. 

The library emptied out as midnight grew closer. He’d be able to close up soon and return to his dorm to do a bit more reading before he grabbed a few hours of sleep. Come morning, he had a paper to write for one of his literature classes. 

“Angel.” 

His head whipped up from the text he’d been buried in when a familiar voice filled the room. Aziraphale glanced hastily around the library but found it empty except for the red-haired student now standing once more across the desk from him. Crowley. 

“Oh. Hello.” Aziraphale swallowed down his surprise and glanced at Crowley’s hands. He was holding two paper to-go cups and offered one over the desk. 

“Your tea, as promised. I wasn’t sure how you took it, so,” he set the tea on the desk and reached into his pocket to pull out sugar packets and an individual plastic container with milk in it. They joined the tea on the table. 

“Goodness, you certainly didn’t have to do this.” He reached out for the tea and pulled it closer, popping off the lid to add sugar and milk, disposing of the garbage in the bin beneath the desk. Aziraphale replaced the lid and held it in his hands as he glanced back up at Crowley’s shaded eyes. Curious that he was the type to wear sunglasses indoors.

“I said I would,” Crowley pointed out, “you saved my ass. I was way too frazzled to have figured out the search terms myself. I thought, too, that I could use the tea to bribe you into teaching me how to use the search properly sometime?” 

A sheepish grin overtook Crowley’s face and Aziraphale’s heart melted ever so slightly. 

“Of course. I have to close up in a few minutes but perhaps another time? Sometime next week?” He took a sip of the tea and enjoyed the warmth that seeped from his chest to his extremities. 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Crowley glanced around, then took a sip of his drink which Aziraphale’s nose told him was coffee. “I should probably get going, huh? Let you close up.” 

“Well, you could walk the library with me? If you’d like to linger.” Aziraphale glanced down at his tea, “I need to make sure there’s no one hiding anywhere.” 

Crowley snorted. “People hide out in the library?” 

“You’d be surprised. Usually it is less sinister than that, though. Students fall asleep at desks or get lost in their studies.” Aziraphale made his way out from behind the reference desk. “I’m quite certain everyone is gone but come, let’s investigate, hm?” 

“Sure.” Crowley fell into step beside him as they began to wind their way through the shelves and desks. Aziraphale knew the library like the back of his own hand. He’d gravitated toward it his first year, spending hours upon hours studying books well outside of his assignments. 

It was how Madame Tracy found him and offered him the work study position. He was spending so much time in the library as it was, he might as well earn something for it. It suited him, being among books as often as he could. There was history contained within their covers, knowledge of the ages at his fingertips. 

“The tea alright?” Crowley asked as they finished the first floor and made their way up the set of stairs to the second. Aziraphale realized too late that he’d been silent, caught up in his own thoughts. 

“Yes, yes, of course dear boy I’m sorry for being so quiet. I get a bit lost in this place. Lost in thought, anyway.” Aziraphale blushed and refused to look at Crowley. 

“Oh, that’s alright then.” Crowley gently nudged him with his shoulder, “as long as I’m not being a bother.” 

“Hardly.” Aziraphale almost laughed at the thought. “Your paper, did it turn out alright?” 

“I’ll let you know when I get the grade back in a few weeks.” Crowley grinned boyishly, “I think I did alright. I like my astronomy class.” 

“Have you picked a major?” Aziraphale fixed a couple books that were poking out from a shelf as they passed. 

“Nah, not yet. Thinking about physics, or something in the physical sciences. You?” 

“English literature, with a minor in history.” Aziraphale lifted his head proudly. 

“Yeah? What’s it like being in class with all the kids who don’t know what they want to do with their English degree?” 

Aziraphale scowled. “Obnoxious.” 

“And you have a plan?” Crowley asked as they wound their way through the second floor. 

“Of course. Eventually I’d like to be a professor, teach. In the short term I think I’d like to repair old books, perhaps start a collection, or help a museum or library maintain theirs. I wouldn’t mind working for a museum, or as a librarian. I hadn’t considered the library sciences until I began my work study, but I find I quite like it.” Aziraphale shrugged. “Options are endless. As long as I get to be near books I think I’ll be happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What?” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, self-consciousness seeping over him like an insidious goo. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who loved something as much as you love books,” Crowley admitted quietly, “it is nice to hear it in your voice. You practically vibrate with it.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale was certain his whole face had to be red as he stopped in his tracks and found the tips of his oxfords very interesting. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Crowley asked as he turned and paced back over to Aziraphale. “I’m sorry, that was stupid, I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” 

“No, no, I just. Well.” Aziraphale straightened his waistcoat with his free hand and shyly glanced over at Crowley. “Most people make fun of me for it. For loving books as much as I do. I don’t think anyone has ever seen it as a good thing…” 

“Nothing wrong with loving something,” Crowley insisted and then touched Aziraphale’s elbow. “Come on, I think it is time to close up and we have to finish looking for anyone trying to spend the night in the library.” 

Aziraphale smiled a little at that and led the way. 

They stepped out of the library and into the hall once they were sure all was clear, Aziraphale turning to lock the doors behind him. “Closed for the evening,” he said and peered through the glass doors, bidding the library a quiet goodnight. Then he turned to Crowley. 

“Well, I suppose I ought to be getting back to my dorm. The tea was lovely, thank you. It will keep my hands warm on the walk back, I’m sure.” 

“I’ll walk with you. Where’s your dorm?” 

“I’ve got a single in Luksic Hall,” Aziraphale said, “and you?” 

“O’Hara. I’ve got two roommates.” 

“Flat-style living, right?” 

“Yeah.” Crowley shrugged and held the door open for Aziraphale as they stepped outside. “Kind of nice, more space than a normal dorm anyway.” 

“And you get along with your roommates?” The thought of roommates made Aziraphale’s chest twist uncomfortably, suddenly anxious. Sharing his space with others, particularly those he didn’t know well, seemed tedious at best. 

“Well enough. We’re friendly, have a few things in common. I’ll walk you to your dorm then head to mine.” 

“Crowley, that’s ridiculous.” Aziraphale huffed, his breath visible in the chilly fall air, “my dorm is that way.” He pointed. “Yours is that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction. 

“So? I like to walk. I’ll be alright, angel, promise.” 

There it was, the nickname again. Aziraphale’s ears went hot. Was Crowley making fun of him? 

“If you’d really rather walk alone,” Crowley amended, “I’ll go.” 

“No, no. I just didn’t want to put you out.” 

“This is hardly putting me out.” Crowley shook his head and they resumed their walk, Aziraphale leading the way to his building. 

“You’ve called me angel,” Aziraphale finally spoke up, “a couple of times now. Are you...making fun of me?” His heart pounded in his chest. 

“What? No. I just…” Crowley hesitated as they came to a stop in front of the door to Aziraphale’s building. “I don’t know. It seemed to fit. The fact that you’re named like an angel made it fit even better. Do you not like it? I can stop.” 

“No,” Aziraphale said quickly, “I mean to say,” he collected himself, “I don’t mind.” 

“Good, then that’s solved.” Crowley smiled. “And I believe this is your stop?” 

“Yes, indeed it is.” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, who pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, showing off his bright eyes in the moonlight. “Goodnight, and thank you for the tea.” 

“Anytime,” Crowley replied and nodded his head. “Goodnight.” 

They both hesitated and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if they were going to hug, or shake hands, or something else entirely. The moment was gone when Crowley took a step backward and then turned, heading back in the direction they came. 

“Sleep well!” Crowley called, with a wave over his shoulder before he disappeared around a corner. Aziraphale lingered there in the light from a street lamp before the cold chased him inside and into his dorm room. 

He leaned against the door, took a couple of deep breaths, and wondered if he’d just made a new friend. 


	3. With Friends like These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and his group of misfit friends find Aziraphale in an unexpected place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter that, as I was writing it, I stopped and thought "okay, yeah, I can keep writing this piece". Enjoy getting to know Crowley's roommates. 
> 
> Bee = Beelzebub, just in case anyone needed clarification.

“Where’re you comin’ back from so late, mate?” Hastur growled from the couch as Crowley stepped into the apartment and removed his boots. 

“What are you, my mum?” Crowley shot back and heard Ligur’s scoffing laughter from somewhere near Hastur. 

“Acts like it some nights, don’t he?” Ligur said as he sat up from where he’d been slouching into the corner of their black leather sofa. “All fluffed up like a mother hen.” 

“Oi, shuttup!” Hastur shoved Ligur who broke into howling laughter. 

“Both of you ought to shut up or else we’ll get another noise complaint.” Crowley prowled into their kitchen and tossed his coffee cup in the garbage, scrounging around for snacks. He found a box of cheez-its and opened it, shoving a few in his mouth before he looked back over at the couch. 

Hastur and Ligur were wrestling, Ligur continuing to laugh despite his face being shoved unceremoniously into one of the throw pillows. It looked like Hastur was winning and Crowley leaned against the counter and watched them. 

“D’ya give up?” Hastur grumbled. 

A muffed affirmative came from beneath him. 

“Thought so.” He let Ligur up and returned to his corner of the couch. 

“Fights like a hen, too,” Ligur remarked and then leaped off the couch as Hastur lunged for him. They disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom and Crowley took it as his chance to claim the sofa, switching the show from whatever they’d been watching to _ The Good Place _. 

“Shit!” Crowley shouted when something came to him in the middle of a conversation the characters on screen were having. 

“Wut?” Ligur asked as he strolled out of the hallway, his button-up a rumpled mess. 

“I forgot to get someone’s phone number,” Crowley said and groaned, letting his head thump back against the couch. 

“Oh?” Ligur sounded mildly intrigued as he resumed his spot on the other side of the couch. 

“Wait, where’s Hastur?” 

Ligur smirked. “Thinkin’ ‘bout his choices, s’all. Don’t worry about it.” 

Crowley groaned again. “Go untie him.” 

“He likes it!” Ligur insisted. 

“I have told you both before I’m not going to be party to your weird games,” Crowley groused. “If that was happening you should have put a sock on the door and I would have crashed with Bee and Dagon and tonight.” 

Ligur looked appropriately cowed. “Ain’t nothin’ like that, Crowley. I didn’t actually tie him up. Just told him to stay for a bit…” 

“Ugh.” Crowley pulled a face. 

Hastur eventually returned to the living room and dropped onto the couch beside Ligur. “What’s crawled up your arse?” He directed his question toward Crowley who scowled in reply. 

“He didn’t get someone’s phone number. S’it the library nerd?” Ligur asked. 

“Don’t call him that,” Crowley shot back. 

“So it _ is _ the library nerd. The one ya went out and bought tea for.” Ligur grinned and slung an arm around Hastur’s shoulders. “Y’know where he works, what’s the problem?” 

“I don’t think he works on the weekend,” Crowley answered. “Thought he might want some company.” 

“Company eh?” Hastur settled against Ligur and tossed his feet up on the coffee table. “That what they call it? Got a new crush there, Crowley?” 

“No.” Crowley scowled. “A new friend, maybe.” 

“Get his number next week, problem solved. You bitched all week about whether or not you’d take him tea, you can wait a couple’a days.” Hastur snatched the remote off the cushion between them before Crowley could stop him. 

He switched back to _ Blue Planet_. “I love the bloody sea turtles,” he admitted as he tilted his head and glanced at Ligur. 

“Yer an idiot,” Ligur replied fondly and Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“I’m going to bed.” He hopped up from the couch and grabbed a handful of cheez-its from the box on the coffee table before he disappeared down the hallway. 

“Don’t be gross! If I hear anything I’m going to hose you both down.” Crowley called out behind him before he slipped into his room for the night. 

His room was small but comfortable, a full sized bed tucked up against the wall. Crowley shimmied out of his trousers and yanked off his t-shirt, dropping both unceremoniously to the ground as he yanked on pajamas. Picking his laptop up from the desk he grabbed his headphones for good measure and flopped onto his bed. 

Crowley settled on his back, laptop on his stomach and turned _ The Good Place _ back on. It managed to soothe him to sleep, distracting him from puzzling over Aziraphale all night. 

**

“The God Squad is at it again,” Bee announced as they walked through Crowley’s front door while he stood over the stove top making eggs. 

“Good morning Bee,” he intoned, rolling his eyes, “so nice of you to barge on in to our humble abode.” 

“You shouldn’t have given me a key,” Bee shot back as they walked into the kitchen and hopped up to perch themselves on the edge of the counter, booted feet kicking. 

“Oi! Boots off! You know the rules.” Crowley brandished the spatula at them and got a smirk in return. 

“Bee,” Dagon said as she stepped into the apartment and paused to remove her shoes. “Take your damn boots off before you knock a hole in the cupboards.” 

“Fine, fine.” They reached down and undid the laces, yanking them off and holding them out to Dagon who walked over and took them from Bee’s hands. She walked them over to the door and set them next to the rest. 

“What were ya sayin’ about the God Squad?” Ligur asked as he rolled off the couch, dressed in boxers and one of what Crowley knew to be Hastur’s button ups because it was a bit long on Ligur. 

“They’re doing one of their tabling things,” Bee said as their eyes lit up with delight. “That tall idiot, Gabriel - he’s got brochures and shit and everything. They’ve got a little bluetooth speaker playing _ worship songs_.” 

Crowley sighed. He wasn’t the biggest fan of organized religion by any means, but he had a difficult time joining in on bashing it. If Gabriel and his group of tools wanted to evangelize then fine, let them, just as long as anyone else practicing anything else could do the same. 

“He’s from the US originally, ain’t he?” Ligur asked as he joined Dagon, Bee, and Crowley in the kitchen. It made Crowley uncomfortable if only because the kitchen was not large, and Dagon currently stood between him and the plates. 

“Yeah. I don’t know how long he’s been here. As far as I know he went to secondary here in England. Other than that, who knows?” Bee shrugged and continued to swing their feet, heels sometimes knocking against the cabinets. 

Crowley slipped around Dagon and grabbed a plate before returning to the stove. 

“What do ya propose we do? Go fuss at ‘em?” Ligur crossed his arms over his chest. “Could try to hack their speaker, play somethin’ a bit more infernal.” 

“Ugh.” Crowley plated his eggs and grabbed a fork before pushing past everyone and making his way to a little two person table they had in what was considered the ‘dining nook’. 

“Don’t agree, Crowley?” Bee asked, tone intentionally prodding, edged with amusement. “Think we should leave the poor God Squad alone?” 

“I just don’t see why we should bother with them. It gives them more fuel to preach against…” Crowley trailed off and waved his hand, “all the shit they preach against.” He shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. 

“He’s not wrong,” Dagon conceded, “they’ll make themselves out to be martyrs if we try anything.” 

“You both are no fun. What do you think, Hastur?” 

Hastur had wandered out from the hallway, dressed in a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He rubbed his eyes and stood near Ligur, leaning into his side when Ligur slid an arm around his middle. 

“What do I think about what?” 

“Messing with the God Squad,” Bee continued, “I think they’re going to be out there doing their thing for a while. Might as well go _ look _ if nothing else. See how ridiculous they are.” 

“Sure. Then we can go get real coffee instead of the shit Crowley keeps.” 

Crowley twitched. “It is locally roasted, whole bean -” 

“You’ve got to _ grind it_, Crowley. No one fuckin’ cares that much.” 

He bit back the _ I care _ on the tip of his tongue and shrugged. “Buy your own coffee, then.” 

“Come on Crowley, finish breakfast. Come make fun of the God Squad with us.” Bee smirked.

Despite his best protests, Crowley ended up bundled in a jacket and trailing after the rest of his friends. Dagon shot him uncertain looks, the only ally in the entire group as Bee led the charge, joking and laughing with Hastur and Ligur. 

It wasn’t hard to find the God Squad. They’d turned up their music as loud as it could go and Crowley winced. It crackled with a bad connection but persisted as the group of them stood around the table, trying to catch the attention of passing students. 

Gabriel, he was the easiest to spot. Crowley had a passing familiarity with the guy but didn’t know him well. They’d had a psychology course together during first year and Gabriel had been nothing but smarmy and holier-than-thou. He held no love for him, but he also held no hatred, which made this whole endeavor seem stupid. Gabriel, handsome, tall, dark haired and light eyed Gabriel, wasn’t worth their attention. 

Next to him was Michael, a rather prim woman who preferred to wear smart skirts and tops and could rarely, if ever, be seen slumming it with the sweatpants crew even during finals week. Her hair was pulled into a fussylittle bun and she was exchanging words with Gabriel. 

Uriel, a quiet and stern woman who dressed to defy gender norms in a way that made Crowley wonder why she was so dead set on running with the God Squad, stood and listened to the fourth member: Sandalphon. What was it with weird religious parents and angel names? Though in Sandalphon’s case, Crowley knew it was a middle name, his first name being William which was so typically _ English_. 

What stopped Crowley in his tracks was a fifth person he didn’t expect: platinum blonde curls, a bit of a belly, and a ridiculous suit jacket with a waist coat and linen button-up all of which looked like they’d been taken out of someone’s great-grandfather’s closet. His heart thumped hard in his chest as he saw the miserable knit of Aziraphale’s brows even from a distance as Gabriel turned and said something to him with a painfully cheery look on his face. 

Crowley realized his group had gotten away from him and jogged to catch up as they approached the table. He overheard the conversation. 

“Gabriel, I’ve really go to see to my paper…” Aziraphale said, his voice pinched. 

“Oh Aziraphale, is this work not more important? Your paper will get written, don’t worry.” Gabriel walked around the table and stepped toward Aziraphale who flinched back in a way that made Crowley want to wedge himself between them and tell Gabriel to shove off. 

“It won’t if I don’t write it, you see, that’s how it works.” Aziraphale held his hands behind his back tensely. “I really ought to go, I’ve already spent an hour more out here than I anticipated…” 

“Have you forgotten the mission, Aziraphale? Bringing people to God is always supposed to come first in your life, you can figure out the rest later.” Gabriel stepped closer. 

“That’s all fine and good bu-” 

“Yo, nerds,” Bee shouted as they marched up to the table. Uriel and Sandalphon glanced over, falling quiet. Michael watched with an ever-so-slight smile that she promptly tried to smother. Aziraphale glanced over, startled, and Gabriel looked over far more casually with a smile that Crowley wanted to knock off his face. 

“Ah, so nice to see you all. Have you come to hear about the path to salvation?” Gabriel stepped away from Aziraphale and toward Bee. 

“Sure, hit me with your best shot there Bible boy.” Bee smirked, and Crowley let them take over as he crept along the outside of his group and made his way over to Aziraphale. 

“Angel,” he said softly and the look of relief that cascaded over Aziraphale’s face was worth it. He wanted to reach out but stopped short, not wanting to press, or to make Aziraphale flinch like Gabriel had. 

Instead, Aziraphale stepped closer to him and then glanced past his arm at the rest of the crew. Ligur leaned casually against Hastur’s shoulder as Bee and Gabriel argued about something Crowley couldn’t care less about. Dagon fluttered behind the group, supportive but disinterested in getting directly involved. 

“Are you alright?” Crowley finally reached out and put his hand on Aziraphale’s upper arm, squeezing gently. 

“Oh yes, quite fine, just a bit…” he lowered his voice, “frustrated. I’ve got a paper I intended to work on this morning but got pulled into, well, all of this.” 

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel called out in his obnoxiously perky voice. Crowley kept his eyes trained on Aziraphale’s face while Aziraphale frowned and looked over. 

“Yes, Gabriel?” He sounded pained. 

“Don’t let this group distract you,” Gabriel said as he walked away from Bee who lifted their lip in a snarl. “We might want to consider moving to another part of campus.” 

“Oi Bible boy you just walking away? Can’t answer the big question about why a good God lets bad shit happen, huh? If you can’t answer that what _ can _ you answer?” 

“Bee, come on,” Dagon insisted, “you’re not going to convince him of anything.” 

“And who are you? I know most of that motley crew back there but I’m afraid we haven’t met. I’m Gabriel,” he held out his hand. 

Crowley tried not to scowl as he took Gabriel’s hand. “Crowley.” 

“That’s quite a name.” 

“Sure is,” Crowley replied dryly as he took his hand back from Gabriel almost immediately. 

“Are you a friend of Aziraphale’s?” Gabriel gave Crowley a once over and despite his plastered on smile, Crowley could see the disapproval in his eyes. “You’ve got your work cut out for you don’t you, Aziraphale?” 

Gabriel punched Aziraphale in the arm and Crowley barely restrained himself from a shove as he watched Aziraphale’s whole body flinch with it. 

“Quite. Crowley here was actually reminding me we’d agreed to work on our papers together today, and I’d really rather not let him down.” Aziraphale glanced at Gabriel, then shot Crowley a pleading look. 

“Yeah, Aziraphale is helping me. You know, my types, we tend to be bad at writing. Need a lot of help.” Crowley burned inside when Gabriel nodded as if it made sense. 

“Alright, I suppose if you’ve made a commitment...go on then, Aziraphale. Go be a good helper.” 

Aziraphale managed to dodge out of the next whack to the arm and stepped toward Crowley who resisted the urge to put his arm protectively around his waist. They walked away from the crew, Aziraphale with his head down as he stared at the ground while they walked. 

Eventually, the sound faded into the background and Aziraphale let out a long, pained sigh. 

“You okay?” Crowley asked as the greenery of campus sprang up around them and they left Gabriel and the rest behind. 

“Yes, I’m alright. I just really dislike it when he does things like that.” Aziraphale frowned. 

“Evangelize?” 

Aziraphale laughed. “That too. No, I hate it when he stomps all over my plans in the name of God. I shouldn’t have left my dorm room this morning. I just wanted the matcha tea from one of the local cafes but somehow I ended up running into him and, well. You saw the result.” 

“You have a history with him I take it?” 

“Far longer than I care to reiterate before my morning tea,” Aziraphale admitted and glanced at Crowley apologetically. 

“Hey, that’s fine,” Crowley held up his hands and shook his head. “You’re under no obligation to tell me anything. Honestly, this worked out for the both of us. It got me away from my crew back there.” 

“Are they not your friends?” Aziraphale peered at him with bright blue eyes. They were beautiful in the morning sun. Crystal clear, like mountain pools.

“Oh, they are, they’re just, uh,” Crowley searched for the word, “combative, sometimes. Little shits, really.” 

“Crowley!” 

“What?” Crowley grinned, “they are. I’m a little shit too sometimes, it is fine.” 

“The one who talked to Gabriel, she seemed like she came in with a grudge.” 

“They,” Crowley corrected. 

“Sorry?” Aziraphale glanced at him, brows furrowed. 

“That’s Bee, they prefer uh, ‘they’ and ‘them’ as their pronouns? You know? Instead of she or he or whatever.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked puzzled, as if he were chewing on something strange and new. “I see.” 

“Do you?” 

“Hm?” 

“See?” Crowley stepped in front of Aziraphale because it seemed like an important conversation. “Because it is alright if you don’t, I can try my best to explain it.” 

Crowley watched a flush of red creep over Aziraphale’s cheeks as he glanced away in embarrassment. “I’m afraid I’m not very...knowledgeable about these things.” 

“That’s how it is with anything, though. Then you learn, you acquire the knowledge, and bam, you know.” Crowley offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“I’d like to learn more about it, then,” Aziraphale smiled, nervous and small, but a smile. Crowley counted it a victory. “Perhaps sometime after I’ve had a chance to get my tea and work on my paper?” 

“How about I walk with you to get tea and try to explain some of it along the way?” 

That was the ticket, as Aziraphale’s face lit up. “That would be lovely, dear boy.” 


	4. Sunday Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is introduced to a different kind of Sunday worship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm luring you all in with cute things. Look at how adorable and happy they are...there's nothing bad that could possibly happen. Ever. Never. I've been writing pretty consistently on this so I'll keep updating as I finish out future chapters! Thank you for all the comments and support so far <3 It fuels me!

Before he dropped Aziraphale off at his apartment to write his paper Crowley remembered to get his number. He found it endearing the way Aziraphale smiled ever-so-shyly as he input his name in the contact list. 

He’d added himself as Aziraphale. Crowley changed it to Angel once he was back in the safety of his own dorm, thankfully free of Hastur, Ligur, and the rest of the misfits he liked to hang out with. He pocketed his phone, grabbed his laptop from his room, and kicked back on the couch to work on a few small assignments. 

Sunday morning came and went, Crowley spending most of it lounging on the couch watching _Blue Planet_ because maybe Hastur was right about it. It was a fascinating show. 

“Oi, Crowley,” Hastur said as he came out of the hallway and stopped to stare at the television. “Oh shit I love this part.” 

“No time for that shit, love,” Ligur said from behind him as he walked by, fussing with a tie. Crowley looked at them and realized they were both dressed up. 

“Where are you two going? Church?” 

Hastur scowled and Ligur snorted. “Nah,” Ligur said, “I’m takin’ Hastur here to see a local orchestra play. Thought I’d teach ‘im a thing or two about the finer things in life.” 

“That’s cute.” Crowley pulled his legs up under himself and glanced back at the TV. 

“I know about the finer things,” Hastur grumbled as he continued on toward the door. “Don’t see what’s so fine about an orchestra.” 

“That’s only ‘cause you aint heard their oboist. From fuckin’ heaven, she is. You doin’ anythin’ today, Crowley?” Ligur finished fussing with his tie and Crowley tilted his head to meet his eyes. 

“Nah, just going to hang out I think.” 

“Not gonna see that library nerd of yers?” Ligur’s eyebrows raised and Crowley huffed. 

“He’s not mine, and he’s not a library nerd.” 

“Suit yourself.” Ligur met Hastur at the door. “Try to get out of the apartment at least once today, Crowley. It’ll be good fer ya.” 

Before Crowley could retort, the pair had left. He grumbled ‘good fer ya’ mockingly under his breath and glared at the school of fish on the television. Then a thought occurred to him. 

He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text. 

_ Hey angel, how’s the paper coming along? _

Crowley hummed, pleased as he returned his attention to his television. His phone buzzed a moment later. 

_ It is quite done. I’ve passed it to a friend to edit. I’d already had it outlined so it really was no trouble to piece together. I just needed some time and space to do it. _

Crowley read the text twice and tried to hear it in Aziraphale’s prim and proper tone before he wrote back. 

_ Does that mean you’re not busy? _

It took longer this time for his phone to buzz, which left Crowley wondering if he’d said the wrong thing. 

_ It depends on your definition of busy, but I’m currently free of school work if that’s what you’re asking _. 

Crowley grinned. 

_ Meet me outside your dorm in twenty minutes _, he typed back. 

_ Do I get a say in this? _

_ Nope _. 

He stood up from the couch and shut off the TV, making his way back into his room to change out of his pajamas into something more appropriate for going out. His phone buzzed again. 

_ All right _ , Aziraphale had written back, followed by, _ I’ll see you shortly _. 

Crowley took a speed shower and pulled on a form fitting slate gray button up and a pair of black skinny jeans. Over that he shrugged on a leather jacket and checked his hair in the mirror. He glanced out the window to find a sunny, bright day, and pulled his sunglasses on over his eyes. He tended to be sensitive to bright lights, not that he liked admitting that was the reason he wore the shades.

With a final glance in the mirror he deemed himself good enough for an afternoon stroll and grabbed his wallet and keys before heading out. 

Aziraphale waited for him outside the dorm building when he arrived, hair impossible to miss as it caught the light and cast a halo-effect. Angel indeed, Crowley smiled to himself as he sauntered up. Aziraphale was dressed as casually as Crowley had ever seen him, dark dress pants with a dark button-up and a chocolate brown sweater vest over it. 

He still looked endearingly like someone’s confused grandfather. 

“Hey,” Crowley greeted and couldn’t help but return the smile he received. 

“Good afternoon, Crowley.” Aziraphale held his hands in front of himself and rocked on his heels. He had a book tucked under his arm. “I take it you’re well?” 

“‘Course. And you?” 

“Quite fine, thank you. I, ah, well. I wasn’t sure what you had in mind, dear boy.” 

“Thought we could take a walk, enjoy the sun. I’ve been told I don’t get out enough.” Crowley glanced at the book. “Did you have something in mind?” 

Aziraphale’s cheeks went red as he glanced away. “I thought perhaps if we wanted to sit somewhere I could read outloud. A silly way to spend an afternoon, I know, but my friend Anathema rather likes it when I do and I thought you might, as well.” 

Crowley couldn’t think of the last time anyone had read to him outside of passages in class. He regarded Aziraphale thoughtfully and realized he was something of a diamond, or other fine cut gem. Shine the light one way for one effect, shine the light another way for something completely different. Aziraphale was full of surprises and Crowley felt as if he’d just discovered another shimmering facet. 

“Of course if that’s not your cup of tea that’s absolutely fine. I’m content to just walk,” Aziraphale inserted quickly. 

“No, no,” Crowley waved the thought away. “I think I’d like that, being read to. Let’s go find a nice spot of grass.” 

Aziraphale wiggled with delight and dropped the book from beneath his arm into his hands, clutching it. “It is Thoreau today, have you read any of his books?” 

They chatted casually as they walked through the campus, winding this way and that until Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and tugged him across the grass to a shaded area. 

“How’s this?” Crowley asked even as he dropped onto the grass and sprawled onto his back. The sun kept the autumn chill away. 

“Lovely,” Aziraphale answered as he lowered himself cross-legged into the grass. “Comfortable?” 

“Infinitely.” Crowley closed his eyes and Aziraphale began to read Thoreau’s musings of what it meant to live in the wilderness. It seemed right, listening to Aziraphale’s steady voice as the breeze rolled by and the leaves rustled above them. As the reading went on Crowley drifted, envisioning golds and reds across a vast deciduous forest, tall prairie grass swaying in the sun. 

It was easy to drift off to Aziraphale’s voice, steady like a stream winding through the woods. He exhaled slowly and fell into a doze. 

**

“What’s up, nerds?” 

Aziraphale stopped his reading mid sentence and glanced up while Crowley snorted awake and sat up. Bee stood in front of them, dressed in pinstriped pants with a t-shirt and a leather jacket covered in patches. Their (Aziraphale remembered his conversation with Crowley) black hair was short and fluffy, stylishly windblown, eyes trained on Crowley. 

“W-we were enjoying the day,” Aziraphale said, the words spilling from his mouth. 

Crowley huffed. “I was napping, now I’m not.” 

“Boo hoo,” Bee grumbled as they dropped to sit down near them. “What were you reading, blondie?” 

_ Blondie _ , Aziraphale thought, aghast. It wasn’t said with the same fondness of Crowley’s _ angel _. He frowned and Bee rolled their eyes. 

“Oi, if you’re going to drop in and rudely interrupt us you might as well _ try _ to be polite, Bee.” Crowley kicked out a booted foot and knocked their shoe with it. “Jerk.” 

“Ass,” Bee shot back. 

“Please, both of you. This was all perfectly civil until…” 

“Until I showed up?” Bee bit out. “Got somethin’ to say there, Bible boy?” 

“Can you really not come up with something more clever?” Aziraphale asked with a withering stare. “Bible boy,” he tried to say it like they had. “As if that’s even an insult.” 

Bee stared, then broke out into a grin. “So he’s not a complete pushover then eh, Crowley?” 

“He’s not a pushover at all, Bee,” Crowley growled. “You’re just a jerk.” 

Bee waved their hand dismissively and then looked back at Aziraphale. “What were you reading?” 

“Thoreau.” Aziraphale stuck his finger in his place and showed them the cover. “If you are willing to be quiet and listen, you’re welcome to join.” 

Crowley made a dismayed noise that Aziraphale ignored in favor of watching the curious expressions that flittered across Bee’s face. First, they’d looked ready to make some sort of smarmy retort but then thought better of it. Their features smoothed into something far more amenable as, with very little ceremony, they flopped onto their back on the grass. “Read on, blondie.” 

“Aziraphale,” he corrected gently, then looked at Crowley. “Would you like me to continue, dear?” 

“Dear!” Bee cried out with a laugh. 

“Shut up,” Crowley ground out. 

Aziraphale looked between the two of them helplessly, his cheeks hot. He opened the book up and tried to find his place. He started to read, not interested in further teasing and it seemed to have the right affect: Crowley settled back down, this time a little closer to Aziraphale as he began reading again. 

The surly energy Bee had brought with them dissipated in favor of relaxed listening, and Aziraphale lost himself in the words. He stopped half an hour later, when he realized his feet had fallen asleep and he was quite sure both Bee and Crowley had started napping. 

“Why’d you stop, angel?” Crowley murmured, pushing his glasses up to rub tiredly at his eyes. 

“I believe my audience has fallen asleep,” Aziraphale answered gently. Then he got a peek at Crowley’s golden eyes as he opened them and peered up at Aziraphale from where he lay. “And there’s a bit of a chill on the air. I think we’ve been out here long enough.” 

“Mmph.” Crowley struggled to sit up and then shrugged out of his jacket, startling Aziraphale when he draped it around his shoulders. It was warm with Crowley’s body heat and Aziraphale ducked his head shyly, worrying the cover of the book with his hands. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t...aren’t you cold?” 

“M’fine.” Crowley carded a hand carelessly through his hair and Aziraphale followed the movement of it only until he realized that was what he was doing and immediately looked away. 

“Bee,” Crowley called out, picking some grass out of the ground to toss in their direction only to have the grass flutter back into his face. “Useless.” 

Aziraphale laughed and Crowley shot him a playfully annoyed look. “That should have worked.” 

“Of course.” 

“Try it again, Crowley, and you’ll be eating grass,” Bee groused as they sat up. 

They all eventually made it up onto their feet, Crowley helping Aziraphale up from the cold ground. He shivered and Crowley tugged the leather jacket more tightly around Aziraphale’s shoulders with a smile. 

“It looks good on you, angel. We could make a punk out of you easily.” 

Aziraphale scoffed. “I highly doubt that.” 

“I’m going to leave you two losers to flirt,” Bee said as they looked between them and then rolled their eyes. “Thanks for reading. Maybe we should make a habit of it.” With that, they walked off, not giving Aziraphale or Crowley a chance to respond. 

“Well they were...erm. Nice, actually. All things considered.” Aziraphale began to walk back toward the path, Crowley at his side. 

“Yeah, they’re a little rough around the edges but at the end of the day they like to chill.” 

“They certainly seemed anything but chill yesterday,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Do they know Gabriel?” 

“Dunno. Probably no more than the rest of us. What’s your deal with him, anyway? You don’t take me as the Saturday morning Evangelism type.” 

Aziraphale instinctively pulled the jacket closer, as if the leather could hide his discomfort. Gabriel was complicated, so was their history, and he wasn’t sure exactly how much he really wanted to reveal. What would Crowley think? Aziraphale was just some church boy, uncool and wildly bland. He frowned at his feet. 

“Hey,” Crowley bumped shoulders with him, “I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You just seemed like you really wanted to get out of there yesterday.” 

“I did,” Aziraphale replied, then sighed. “Gabriel and I...we’ve known each other for a long time. We grew up in church and he’s kept his convictions.” 

“And yours?” 

Aziraphale faltered. “I’d really rather not talk about it, dear boy. You’re right.” Had he bollocksed everything up? He glanced at Crowley who looked thoughtful, but far from judgmental or disgusted. 

“Well, whatever the case I enjoyed what we did today.” Crowley hopped as he stepped, beaming at Aziraphale. “And even if it wasn’t the proper practice of religion on a Sunday, I think it was its own sort of Sunday worship.” 

_ Oh _. Aziraphale flushed and held his book tightly to his chest. He’d had a similar thought, sitting outside with the sound of birds on the gentle breeze. There’d been grass beneath his fingertips and two companions dozing in the sun. What better way to worship than in nature, with others, reading powerful words? 

“I think you’re quite right,” Aziraphale replied softly. 

They arrived in front of Aziraphale’s dorm far sooner than he would have liked and he began to shrug off Crowley’s jacket. 

“No, no. Keep it. You can give it back to me some other time, right?” 

“But you’ve got to walk all the way back to your dorm in the chill,” Aziraphale protested. “You’ll catch cold.” 

“Pfft, as if cold viruses would dare to even look at me,” Crowley waved him off. “I’m fine, angel. You’ll freeze between me and the door if I take it back now.” 

“The obvious solution to that would be for you to walk me to the door and _ then _ take your jacket,” Aziraphale said patiently. 

“Whoops, look at the time.” Crowley began to step backwards away from him, “guess I’m already leaving and you have to keep the jacket.”

“Crowley! You’re being ridiculous.” Aziraphale huffed, not entirely understanding why he was being so _ difficult _. 

“Maybe I just like the way you look in my jacket, angel.” Crowley paused and looked, for a moment, like he regretted the words before playing it off. “I’ll see you around, Aziraphale.” 

Before Aziraphale could protest any further, Crowley turned and began to jog off. Aziraphale watched him go, scowling, before he tugged the jacket closer and made his way inside. Returning it meant he’d have a reason to see Crowley again, and he was warming to the idea already.


	5. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley spends more time with Aziraphale in the library and the two get a little awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a happy bonus chapter for y'all because I had a pajama day today and finished writing chapter 9...so updates should be pretty frequent. I forgot how much fun it is to write chapter fics.
> 
> I also momentarily forgot what a normal college schedule is like so if the class schedule seems weird, just pretend I know what I'm doing.

Aziraphale’s Mondays were a flurry of back-to-back classes. Mondays and Wednesdays he had his two remaining foundation classes - history and biology - and a history of philosophy class. Tuesdays and Thursdays he had classes in the afternoons into the evenings, taking a Medieval Literature class and upper level English. Between classes he picked up shifts when he could as he enjoyed his time in the library and found he could study just as easily there as in his dorm. 

It also helped that Crowley appeared in the library more often, starting the Tuesday after their ‘Sunday worship’ gathering with Bee. 

“Angel,” Crowley greeted with his usual smile as he leaned against the reference desk. Aziraphale was sorting through some returns, organizing them onto carts for reshelving. 

“Crowley,” he replied with a nod and finished the pile he’d been working on before diverting his whole attention to him. “Good, ah,” Aizraphale glanced at the clock, “morning, still.” 

Crowley’s lips quirked in an amused grin as he set a paper cup on the counter. “Tea, milk and sugar. It isn’t matcha, I couldn’t make it out to the cafe but I got this from the place on campus.” 

Aziraphale flushed, touched by the gesture as he reached out for it. “You shouldn’t have.” 

“Well, you still owe me a tutorial on using the database search, so I figure I’ve got to keep up the payments. Keep you on the hook.” He shrugged, and Aziraphale wondered for a moment if he was serious. A glance at the coy look on Crowley’s face soothed his worries. 

“Yes, well, I’m afraid I’m a bit busy today but perhaps tomorrow after my classes? Are you free in the evening? I’ll be here until eight thirty.” Aziraphale had another paper he wanted to start working on for his philosophy class, so he’d taken a shorter shift. 

“It’s a date,” Crowley said with a grin. “I’ve got to be off to class, but I’ll see you around yeah?” 

“Tomorrow, I believe,” Aziraphale answered primly and took pleasure in the momentarily flustered look on Crowley’s face. 

“Right! Yeah. The date.” 

“Try not to forget, dear boy,” Aziraphale insisted, “I’ll be waiting.” 

“I won’t, angel.” The look Crowley gave him sparked a fire in his belly and Aziraphale had to look away, back at the next pile of books he needed to sort. 

“See you then,” Crowley said, then slipped out of the library. 

Crowley did show up the next evening, skipped a day, then appeared during Aziraphale’s evening shift. He lingered when he could, bringing tea and sometimes snacks. The library was quiet Friday night and Aziraphale spent that time reshelving books while Crowley lurked between the shelving, touching the spines of books with long, curious fingers. 

Sometimes he peeked through spaces in the shelves to catch Aziraphale’s eye. 

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked when Crowley was being particularly obvious about getting his attention. He slid a book back into place and then peered through the gap right back into golden yellow eyes. Crowley found the lighting in some areas of the library mild enough that he forewent wearing his shades and Aziraphale liked it. 

He liked being able to see Crowley’s full expressions. 

Crowley just grinned and his face disappeared, though Aziraphale heard his soft footsteps disappearing down the aisle. He rolled his eyes and picked up another book to slide into place. 

“I’m still in possession of your jacket, you know,” Aziraphale called out to the shelves when he’d lost track of Crowley, pushing the cart further down the aisle. “You’ve not come to collect it and I keep forgetting to bring it with me to the library.” 

“Are you inviting me to your room, angel?” Crowley asked from right behind him and Aziraphale jumped, startled and suddenly very, very warm. 

“Erh, n-no, I hadn’t. I wasn’t.” He swallowed hard and felt rising panic. He’d not meant it as a come-on, not meant it as anything really, he’d just been trying to start a conversation. “I didn’t mean -” 

“Woah, breathe Aziraphale. Sorry. I was teasing. It was a bad joke.” Crowley grimaced and reached out to gently touch Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale exhaled slowly and turned away, focusing on the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said again, sounding a little lost. 

“No, no, it is quite alright. I just, well, think nothing of it. Really. Like you said, it was a joke.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he wanted to be disappointed about that. The back of his neck burned with embarrassment. 

“You can get my jacket back to me whenever. I don’t mind.” 

“Of course.” Aziraphale hesitated and picked up one of the books, turning back to Crowley. “Would you do me a favor? I have difficulty reaching the top shelf and this one needs to go right up there.” He offered up the book like an olive branch and Crowley took it. 

“The perks of being tall,” he said as he leaned up and slotted the book back into place. 

Crowley stayed until Aziraphale closed up, ushering the few lingering students out. It would get busier as they neared midterms and the quiet of Friday nights would give way to the din of anxious students furiously studying. They walked back to Aziraphale’s dorm and paused in front of it. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said quietly as he looked at Crowley, offering him a nervous smile. 

“For what?” Crowley looked curious. 

“For spending time with me this week. It’s been lovely.”  _ And you’re under no obligation to _ , Aziraphale thought, but didn’t say,  _ which leaves me confused as to why you continue to linger _ . Something must have shown on his face because Crowley’s gaze softened. 

“I enjoy spending time with you, angel. Don’t say it like it is a hardship.” Aziraphale saw Crowley’s hand twitch, a moment of conflict showing in the knit of his brow, before he seemed to make a decision and reached up to touch Aziraphale’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. 

Aziraphale swallowed. What were they doing? What was  _ he _ doing? Anxiety rose up and grasped his heart in a vice. He tore his gaze away from Crowley’s and turned. 

“Goodnight, Crowley.” He didn’t want to see the stricken look on his face as he left him behind, so he didn’t turn. He merely scanned his ID to get into the building and disappeared down the hall, his heart pounding an uncomfortable rhythm against his ribs. 

He slipped into his room just in time to sit on his bed and put his head in his hands. What was he  _ doing _ ? What were  _ they _ doing? Was Crowley hitting on him? Was he...was he? Aziraphale buried his fingers in his curls and remained hunched over as he tried to breathe, tried to figure out why, when part of him hoped that Crowley  _ was _ making a move, another part condemned him for it. 

It didn’t escape his notice that the condemning voice sounded a lot like Gabriel. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and then continued to buzz, piercing his panicked haze. Someone was calling him. He scrambled and yanked his phone out of his pocket, Crowley’s name on the screen. He answered before he could stop himself. 

“Hello?” He asked, as if he didn’t know who was on the other end of the line. 

“Alright, angel?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale could hear the sound of his footsteps through the phone, the wind buffeting the speaker. He was probably walking back to his dorm. 

“Yes.” He lied. Aziraphale cringed. “No. I’m sorry. This is all moving rather quickly and I’ve not...I’m not. I don’t know.” 

“S’alright,” Crowley said in a manner that made it sound at least half-true, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“No, no, I’m just afraid you’ve picked a rather sorry fool to be friends with my dear.” Aziraphale laughed and it was a sad, airy thing with no depth. “It is a miracle I’ve managed to keep Anathema so close, I’m not...I’m not used to clicking with people.” 

“I disagree.”

“Sorry?” Aziraphale frowned. 

“You’re not a sorry fool, angel. You’re kind, and witty, and smart as hell. I like hanging out with you, and I’d like to continue hanging out with you if you’re alright with it.” Crowley hesitated, “but if you’re not you can tell me. Or if you want me to bugger off sometimes, you can say that, too.” 

Aziraphale took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, a sense of peace settling over him like Crowley’s leather jacket. “I enjoy spending time with you. Of course I want you around.” 

“Then it is settled, then. No bad feelings, yeah? Just two friends getting to know each other.” 

“Just two friends,” Aziraphale said with a growing sense of dread that told him it would never be that simple. 

“Good. Goodnight, Aziraphale. Get some sleep.” 

“You too.” 

The line stayed open for a lingering moment before Crowley disconnected and Aziraphale was left with his thoughts. He flopped back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Help me figure this out,” he whispered as a prayer. “Please?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a brand new fandom twitter [@LikelyShovels](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels). Come follow me! Or you know if tumblr is more your thing I've got [that too](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com/).


	6. Package Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale goes from one friend to many as the idea of Sunday worship spreads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really enjoyed writing the first bit of this. I'm a sucker for found family. 
> 
> This chapter really begins the descent into some of the harder bits of this story for Aziraphale + Crowley, but I'll put warnings on chapters as is appropriate and I will always focus on healing more than the hurt when I can! It will always have a happy ending. I should also say if I ever appear to miss a warning/tag for triggering content, feel free to call me out on it. I'm always open to feedback and am happy to tag in whatever way makes people feel safe reading this.

Crowley tried to give Aziraphale space over the weekend, burying himself in school work. There was more than enough to do to keep busy, and he was sure Aziraphale was in a similar spot. 

Bee stopped by the apartment late in the afternoon on Saturday, kicking off their boots before walking over to the couch and dropping onto it unceremoniously. They threw their feet up on Crowley’s lap, on top of his books, and waited. Crowley rolled his eyes and glanced over. 

“Yes?” He asked. 

“We doin’ that thing with your boyfriend tomorrow?” Bee inquired, running their fingers through their short hair. Crowley’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what the hell they were talking about. 

They seemed to pick up on his confusion. 

“You know, the _ thing _. Where he reads to us or whatever.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Crowley answered belatedly, the words sinking in. “And I don’t know. He’s busy this weekend. School work, like the rest of us, like what you should be doing.” 

“How do you know what work I have to do, hm? And that I haven’t already finished it?” They gave him a challenging look and Crowley sighed, slumping back against the couch. 

“Regardless,” he began, “I’m not going to impose. Plus, it is getting cold outside.” And Crowley hadn’t had his jacket returned yet. “I doubt he’d want to do it.” 

“Who wouldn’t want to do what?” Hastur asked as he prowled into the living room, scratching his cheek as he dropped into a battered armchair. He was dressed in pajamas and looked as if he’d just emerged from a nap. 

“Nothing,” Crowley began. 

“Listen to Crowley’s boyfriend read. He’s good at it.” 

Hastur gave them both a skeptical look. “What, like readin’ to kids?” 

“Don’t knock it,” Bee hissed, “until you try it. You’d be surprised. It is relaxing.” 

“Not my boyfriend,” Crowley reminded them. 

“Whatever,” both of them answered, clearly more interested in talking with each other than him. 

“What’s his deal anyway?” Hastur finally asked, directing the question to Crowley. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Crowley frowned. 

“Blah blah he ain’t your boyfriend sure, whatever. But is he, y’know, gay? Is he one of us?” Hastur glanced at Bee who nodded as if to affirm they’d been curious too. 

“I don’t know,” Crowley replied, all too aware he’d been pondering the same question since he’d run across Aziraphale in the library that first time. He certainly _ seemed _ a bit, well, queer. Or perhaps Crowley’s gaydar was malfunctioning, given the way Aziraphale had reacted to nothing more than a gentle touch. 

“Why was he hanging out with Gabriel and the God Squad last Saturday?” Bee asked and Crowley withered a bit, wishing the couch would consume him and he could escape this conversation. 

“They’re old acquaintances or something. Gabriel bullied him into it. I don’t know much else.” 

Bee knocked his thigh with their foot, “text him. Ask him if he’ll read to us tomorrow.” 

“No,” Crowley replied. “He’s not at our beck and call and I’m not at yours.” 

“I didn’t say _ tell _ him,” Bee pointed out with a roll of their eyes, “I said _ ask _him, you idiot.” 

Crowley bristled. Bee knocked his leg again. Hastur grinned from the chair. 

“If you take his phone you can text him yourself. I know his security code,” Hastur said. 

“You what?” Crowley nearly yelped, because the moment Hastur mentioned it Bee was in motion, grappling with Crowley and trying to scramble for his pants pocket. 

Chaos erupted after that as Crowley landed on his back on the ground with Bee above him and Hastur cheering them on. They wrestled, Crowley doing everything in his power to keep Bee from reaching his pocket, and Bee doing everything in _ their _ power to tame Crowley’s lanky, noodly limbs. 

Eventually the front door opened and shut and they paused their fighting for a moment. 

“The hell is goin’ on ‘ere?” Ligur asked as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a wall hook. “Y’all wrestlin’ without me?” 

Crowley groaned as chaos erupted again, this time with Ligur involved. It ended with Crowley calling for mercy and making a deal to text Aziraphale - under duress, he might add - about reading to all of them on Sunday. 

“Tell him to come to the apartment,” Hastur said. “Better than being out in the cold.” 

“You’re all making a lot of demands,” Crowley grumbled as he begrudgingly texted Aziraphale. 

_ News of Sunday worship has spread _ , Crowley began, _ an encore is being requested for tomorrow. _

_ Sorry? _ Aziraphale texted back, followed quickly by _ Oh! You mean reading. You and Bee would like to do that again? _

_ Try me, Bee, Hastur, and Ligur. You can bet once Dagon hears, she’ll join too _. Crowley grimaced. 

“Wot’s he sayin’?” Ligur asked, but Crowley just shot him an annoyed look. 

_ Goodness. I’ve never had quite that kind of audience before. You’re sure everyone wants to lay about and listen to me read? _

_ Positive. I’ve got bruises to show for it. _

_ What? _ Aziraphale wrote back almost immediately. 

_ I’ll explain it later. Are you up to it? We can try it outside for a bit but if it gets too cold we can come back to the apartment. _

There was radio silence for a few minutes. Bee huffed. “What’s taking him so long? What did he say?” 

“He’s thinking,” Crowley grumbled, a little nervous about the ask. Maybe it was too much, too soon. Hanging out with Aziraphale one-on-one was one thing, but dropping him into the middle of this rag-tag group of misfits? That was bound to be a bit much. 

_ Certainly. I’ll be by yours around 1pm tomorrow if that’s alright? _

“One o’clock tomorrow good enough for you heathens?” Crowley asked. 

There was a chorus of ‘yeahs’ that went around. 

_ 1pm would be perfect, angel. See you then _.

**

“What was that about?” Anathema asked when Aziraphale finally set his phone aside. He offered her a nervous smile. 

“Apparently Crowley and his friends want me to, ah, read to them tomorrow.” He blushed. “It started last week, we jokingly call it Sunday worship. I read to him and Bee out in the garden and I suppose the rest of his friends heard about it and want in.” 

Anathema’s smile was warm. “You might have to reserve a lecture hall if you keep that up. You’d have a whole audience.” 

“Oh hush,” Aziraphale shook his head. “Would you and Newt like to join us? Crowley’s friends can be a bit rowdy but you might like them.” 

“Newt is taking me out to the movies, otherwise I’d join in a heartbeat. If you make it a weekly thing I’ll come next time.” 

“I’d like that, I think.” Aziraphale shifted in his seat. They’d taken up space in one of the campus lounges to work on their respective paper outlines. “What should I read?” 

Anathema made a thoughtful sound. “What did you read last time?” 

“Thoreau,” Aziraphale admitted with a sheepish smile. “It was what I was reading at the time. They didn’t seem to mind.” 

“Oh,” Anathema said after a moment of thought. “I’ve got the perfect idea.” 

**

Crowley was still fussing with his hair when there was a knock at the door of the apartment. He rushed into the hallway, socked feet sliding on hardwood floors only to see he’d been beaten to the door. 

Hastur tossed him a smirk before he opened it to reveal Aziraphale, dressed in a soft blue sweater and a pair of slacks. Draped over his arm was Crowley’s jacket and in his other hand was a book. 

“Ah, hello,” Aziraphale greeted politely, not yet spotting Crowley. He tucked the book under his arm and held out his hand, “I’m Aziraphale.” 

“Hastur,” Hastur replied and reached out to shake his hand. “Heard a lot about you.” He stepped back and motioned Aziraphale inside. “S’just me and Crowley right now, Ligur and Bee went out to get snacks. Dagon is dragging her feet.” 

“Quite alright.” Aziraphale toed out of his shoes and then spotted Crowley, a smile breaking out across his face. “Hello.” 

“Angel,” Crowley nodded and crossed the distance between them. Aziraphale offered him his jacket. 

“Thought it would be smart to bring this back. You might need it, there’s a bit of a chill.” 

“And you’ve not brought a jacket again,” Crowley pointed out. “Perhaps you ought to keep it.” 

“I’ll be alright,” Aziraphale insisted. 

“I’ll leave you two to moon at each other,” Hastur said as he stalked by them and down the hallway, presumably to get ready. 

Crowley took notice of the dusting of pink that splashed across Aziraphale’s cheeks and smiled. He wasn’t given a chance to say anything, however, as the door opened again and the rest of the crew made their way inside. 

“Boots,” Crowley called out to Bee who rolled their eyes and kicked them off dramatically. Dagon, behind them, politely removed hers while Ligur followed suit. They were holding reusable shopping bags. 

“We got snacks,” Ligur said. “Thought this seemed like the kinda thing to have snacks for.” 

“Bought a blanket, too,” Dagon said, holding up her bag. “Nicer than just sitting on the grass.” 

Crowley heard a soft intake of breath from behind him and glanced at Aziraphale who looked at them, then looked away. 

“Angel?” He asked quietly, stepping closer. 

“This is lovely, that’s all,” Aziraphale whispered. “I didn’t…” he clutched the book in his hands, “I don’t think I expected everyone to take to the idea so readily. I hope everyone likes the book I’ve chosen.” 

“Hastur!” Ligur called out before he made his way down the hallway, distracting both Crowley and Aziraphale from their conversation. “C’mon, we’re ready an’ yer slow,” they heard him say from somewhere down the hallway. 

Aziraphale offered Crowley a nervous smile and walked over to the door to pull his shoes back on. 

“What book did you bring?” Bee asked as they plucked it out of his hands, much to Aziraphale’s dismay as he looked at them wide-eyed. 

“_ Frankenstein _,” he admitted, “I know it is an old story but I thought with Halloween approaching it might be fun…” 

Crowley noticed the way Aziraphale seemed to shrink back a bit as Bee leafed through the book before offering it back to him. 

“I like monster stories,” they said with a shrug. “And Halloween. You into haunted houses, blondie? Maybe we can all go to one.” 

Aziraphale’s posture eased and Crowley felt the vice in his chest relax. He needed to trust his friends, and trust that Aziraphale knew how to be a person. Dagon caught Crowley’s eye and watched him with a knowing look on her face which made him duck his head and blush as he yanked his boots on. 

Eventually, everyone ready and bags in hand, they left the apartment and made their way to another part of campus with an open field. The sun fought to break through the clouds so it wasn’t the best day to be outside, but Crowley didn’t mind. Easier on the eyes, at least. 

Dagon found a spot on the grass and set to work laying out the oversized blanket she’d purchased for the occasion. It was a classic sort of picnic blanket, red checked and everything. Ligur plopped down onto the blanket once it was set and pulled food out from the bags. Sliced apples, crackers, cheese, and they weren’t allowed to have alcohol on campus so Hastur snatched up the sparkling cider and plastic cups and began pouring. 

Soon they all settled into various spots, Bee sprawled half on, half off the blanket on their back. Dagon laid with her head on Crowley’s leg as Crowley sat cross-legged beside Aziraphale who was in the same position. Hastur sat with his hands on the blanket behind him, legs stretched out so Ligur could use them as a pillow. 

“Go on then,” Crowley encouraged once everyone seemed satisfied with their positions. 

He watched as Aziraphale’s eyes roamed over everyone on the blanket before they turned to the text and he began to read. 

All was going well until about an hour in. Crowley was the first one to notice the approaching group, Aziraphale far too engrossed in his reading and the rest of the crew sprawled out in various degrees of napping. 

Gabriel was hard to miss with his light grey v-necked sweater and tailored slacks. Behind him trailed Sandalphon, someone Crowley knew in name only and did his best to avoid. 

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel called out once he was close enough to be heard and Crowley looked over to see Aziraphale stiffen. Gabriel managed to get the attention of Ligur and Bee, both of whom sat up and glowered in his direction. 

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale replied politely, sticking a bookmark to keep his spot as he set the book aside. 

“What’s all this?” Gabriel asked, motioning to the blanket and all the people on it. 

“Sunday worship,” Bee growled, “what’s it to you?” 

“I don’t believe I’ve said anything to warrant that sort of hostility,” Gabriel replied and turned his attention back to Aziraphale. “Sunday worship?” He laughed. “Is that a joke?” 

“Kind of,” Aziraphale replied and Crowley watched him pale when faced with Gabriel’s disapproving look. “It seemed like a nice name for it.” 

“I take it you didn’t actually step foot in a church this morning then?” 

Aziraphale glanced away. “No.” 

Gabriel tsk’ed, Sandalphon smirked behind him, and Crowley bit back the _ fuck you _ that was on the tip of his tongue. 

“What were you reading?” Gabriel asked as he leaned around to try and see the book Aziraphale had set on the blanket. 

Aziraphale said something quietly and Gabriel apparently couldn’t hear. 

“What was that, Aziraphale? You have to speak up,” Gabriel pointed out unkindly. 

“_ Frankenstein _,” Aziraphale answered as he lifted his chin and stared at Gabriel. Gabriel frowned. 

“We should talk soon, Aziraphale.” Gabriel gaze swept over the group on the blanket then back to him. “Very soon.” 

“Right.” Aziraphale looked sick. 

“Oi, we were in the middle of a chapter if ya don’t mind,” Ligur said, “so if you’d kindly fuck right off that’d be alright.” 

Gabriel’s lips twisted in a disgusted look. “Certainly. All of you have a blessed day.” He shot one last look at Aziraphale that Crowley didn’t like before he turned on his heel and began to walk away. Sandalphon shot them all a look, too, before he followed. 

“Pricks,” Bee growled. 

“Asshats,” Ligur agreed. 

“Please don’t...say things like that,” Aziraphale said meekly. “He’s just…” 

“An arse,” Hastur said. “You don’t have to make excuses for him, or take that shit from him.” 

“They’re right, angel,” Crowley said, trying to keep his voice soft and measured. “Whatever your history is with him, what he just did was a jerk move.” 

“I know,” Aziraphale lamented, then seemed to reign himself in. “I’m - I’m afraid I ought to end this for today. We can pick up next week, perhaps? Finish this before the end of October.” 

He stood and Crowley stood quickly with him, even if it meant dislodging Dagon who had been a quiet observer. 

“We’ll clean up,” Hastur offered and Aziraphale nodded, mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’, and then started walking away. 

Bee frowned and looked at Crowley. “Go get him, idiot.” 

Crowley huffed and hustled after Aziraphale, easily catching up with his long strides. 

“Angel,” he started, but Aziraphale held up his hand and shook his head. 

“Please,” he said softly. “You won’t understand.” 

“Of course I won’t, because you won’t _ tell me _ what’s going on.” Crowley couldn’t help the frustration in his tone. It bubbled up out of him without his permission. The frustration was really toward Gabriel, for ruining an otherwise lovely Sunday afternoon and making Aziraphale look like he was about to face corporal punishment. 

Aziraphale stopped walking and hugged the book to his chest. “Gabriel and I have a history.” 

“I know,” Crowley said far more gently as he stepped closer to Aziraphale. 

“I don’t even know how to begin to explain it,” Aziraphale admitted and looked at Crowley, lost. 

“I get that,” Crowley said. “May I hug you?” 

Aziraphale looked startled, but then ducked his head and nodded. Crowley offered him a half-smile he probably couldn’t see and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him to his chest. Aziraphale kept one arm pinned between them, keeping the book to his chest while the other wrapped around Crowley’s waist in return. 

He buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder and shivered. Crowley rested his cheek against his soft blonde curls. 

“It’ll be alright,” Crowley murmured, “you’re alright.” 

Aziraphale nodded against his shoulder but didn’t say anything. He curled his fingers in the back of Crowley’s jacket as Crowley tightened his arms around him. 

Crowley wanted to understand so badly that he burned with it, but he kept his questions to himself. There would be time, maybe, eventually, when Aziraphale would share why Gabriel seemed to have so much sway over him. For the moment, he’d offer comfort. It was the best he could do.

“Would you care to walk back with me to my dorm, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked as he pulled out of Crowley’s embrace. 

“Always, angel.” And he meant it. They walked back to Aziraphale’s dorm, the quiet of the afternoon settling around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) or [Tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com).


	7. The Wrong Kind of People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets an unfriendly visit from Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've bumped the rating for this fic up to Mature because we're getting into some conflict that deals heavily with homophobia/hurtful language about the LGBTQ+ community. Gabriel's opinions are _wrong_, and the reactions to the things he says in this chapter and a later chapter will be processed/dealt with by the characters. There will be comfort! But I also want to let people know that this is going to be a theme through this main arc of the story. I'll be sure to add more content warnings as I go but if there are any issues don't hesitate to reach out or leave a comment. 
> 
> With that said, thank you all for your continued response to this story! It'll probably top out around 17 chapters? So there's still a lot of story to go!

It took a week for Gabriel to corner him. 

A week of strange but welcome visitors in the library, stopping by to say hi while he was on shift. A week of visits from Crowley, too, who explained that the strange visits were a result of Bee, Hastur, Ligur, and Dagon being concerned after what happened on Sunday. 

Friday night, in the quiet before closing, Gabriel appeared. Normally Crowley would have joined Aziraphale on his shift, as had become the pattern, but he’d agreed to an evening trip out to stargaze with his astronomy class. So when Gabriel found him he was alone, most students having packed up and left, Aziraphale nearly ready to do the same and close up the library. 

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel said it cheerfully but Aziraphale knew that tone. The false cheer was withering and Aziraphale wished he could sink behind the reference desk and hide. 

“Gabriel,” he greeted. “Can I help you with something?” 

“I was hoping we could talk.” 

“I’m working.” It was a flimsy excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. 

Gabriel glanced around the library pointedly. “Looks like you’re about to stop working. Why not close the library up half an hour early?” 

“Because that’s not my job, and those aren’t the hours,” Aziraphale retorted, annoyed that Gabriel would be so self-centered as to suggest Aziraphale skimp on his hours. “I committed to keeping the library open until midnight, so until midnight it stays.” 

“Fine, fine.” Gabriel waved his hand dismissively. “That’s very noble of you. Since there’s no one around we can talk here just as well as anywhere else.” 

“I don’t know what we have to talk about.” Aziraphale frowned, grateful for the desk between he and Gabriel. 

“We need to talk about the people you’ve been hanging out with lately,” Gabriel said as he leaned forward on the desk, lavender-blue eyes sharp and piercing. “I worry for you.” 

“You needn’t,” Aziraphale insisted. “There’s nothing wrong with the people I’ve been hanging out with.” 

“Look,” Gabriel offered him a smile that dripped with false sincerity, “it was one thing for you to get in with that witch-girl. I thought you might be a good influence, didn’t think it could hurt. But now you’re hanging out with a bunch of sexual deviants?” 

Aziraphale’s heart seized and rage flared up somewhere deep inside of him. “Excuse me?” 

“Come on Aziraphale, don’t pretend you can’t see it. I mean, that girl you hang out - Bee, is it? - she insists that,” he said the next part mockingly, “gender is a spectrum, she’s outside of it, blah blah blah.” Gabriel shook his head as if he’d just heard a particularly pathetic story. “And the other two, they’re clearly in a homosexual relationship with each other. How could you not notice?” 

Aziraphale  _ had _ noticed. He wasn’t an  _ idiot _ . He also wasn’t a  _ bigot _ . Anger simmered beneath his skin but quickly morphed into profound anxiety. How could he even begin to explain to Gabriel, condescending, God-fearing Gabriel, that he didn’t care about any of that? That he wasn’t hanging out with this particular group of people to evangelize, or bring them into a light. 

He hung out with them because he liked them, and they liked him. 

“And that Crowley boy,” Gabriel sighed. “I’m worried they’re all going to pull you down the wrong path and confuse you, Aziraphale. You’ve never been very good at reading people.” 

Aziraphale’s heart was in his throat as he fought an internal war, trying to figure out how to respond. His anger tangled with his anxiety and he tried to hide his trembling hands in his pockets. 

“Everything alright here, Aziraphale dear?” 

Both Gabriel and Aziraphale’s heads snapped to the voice. Madame Tracy, the library director, smiled gently at the two of them. Aziraphale noticed the way her eyes narrowed when they landed on Gabriel. She was dressed in flowing silks, looking every bit as elegant as she had the first time Aziraphale spoke with her. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale rasped out as he looked away. Gabriel’s smile turned sickly-sweet. 

“I apologize, I was distracting my friend here from his work.” Gabriel brushed imaginary dirt off of the front of his sweater. “I ought to let him close up.” 

Gabriel looked back over at Aziraphale who hesitantly met his eyes. “Think about what I’ve said, Aziraphale. Remember who your real friends are.” 

With that, he nodded goodnight to Madame Tracy and left the library. 

Aziraphale felt hot tears of anger and hurt stinging at the backs of his eyes when Gabriel was finally out of sight. 

“Oh, my dear.” Madame Tracy stepped up and put an arm around his shoulders. He turned into her and sniffled as he tried to hold it back. He was so  _ angry _ , at Gabriel first and foremost but also at himself. Faced with the terrible things Gabriel said, he’d been unable to stick up for his friends, unwilling to fight back against the cruel accusations. 

“I’m afraid I only caught the tail end of what that boy was saying,” Madame Tracy said softly. “But I didn’t like it one bit.” 

Aziraphale pulled away and wiped his eyes. “He doesn’t understand,” he mumbled. “He has these preconceived notions about the world and can’t seem to break away from them.” 

Madame Tracy offered him a handkerchief she pulled from somewhere in her flowing blouse. He blew his nose. 

“Where’s Anthony tonight? I thought he normally kept you company on Fridays these days.” 

Just the mention of Crowley brought fresh tears to Aziraphale’s eyes as he wished, desperately, that Crowley had been there. If he had, perhaps Gabriel wouldn’t have been so terrible. “He’s on a trip with his astronomy class.” 

“I see.” Madame Tracy rubbed Aziraphale’s back as he dabbed at his eyes again. “There there, dear. It’ll be alright. That boy will have to face a lot of hard realities if he keeps walking through life with that attitude.” 

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale sniffled. “It has worked pretty well for him so far.” 

Madame Tracy laughed. “You’re what, nineteen years old? Believe me, what works when you’re nineteen doesn’t always hold up when you’re twenty, then thirty, and you start to see more of the world.” 

Aziraphale didn’t know how to respond to that as he tried to picture Gabriel as anything other than what he was. His imagination came up blank. 

“You ought to call Anathema,” Madame Tracy suggested. “See if she’s available to spend time with you tonight. Wash the bad taste out of your mouth and all that, hm? Go on, I’ll close up. There’s only about fifteen minutes left on the clock anyway.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale realized something. “Why were you here? You don’t normally come in this late.” 

“I forgot a bag I needed for the weekend. Thought it was better to pick it up now instead of trying tomorrow morning. Go along now, I’ll see you next week. That’s an order.” She smiled. 

“Yes ma’am,” Aziraphale murmured and offered her back her handkerchief. 

“No no, you keep that. You may need it again.” 

He tucked it into his jacket pocket, gathered up his book from the desk, and left the library. Aziraphale kept an eye out for Gabriel, because the last thing he wanted was to run into him again after just managing to slip out of another lecture. Once he was outside he took in a deep breath of cold air and then pulled out his phone, dialing Anathema’s number. 

“Yeah? What’s up, Zira?” 

“Mind if I drop in?” His voice wavered pathetically and he kicked himself for it. 

“Of course. Everything okay?” She sounded like she switched her phone from one ear to the other. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Alright enough, I think. I could use a bit of a distraction.” 

“Of course. Newt is over and we were going to play some board games. C’mon, we’ll make some popcorn.” 

As Aziraphale made his way to her building he couldn’t help but chance a glance up at the stars. Somewhere off campus Crowley would be looking at the same ones, tracing patterns in the sky early into the morning. His heart ached. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered to the heavens. “I hope whatever it is, it isn’t wrong.” 

Aziraphale swallowed his doubts and made his way to Anathema’s, glad for the distraction from Gabriel’s hard words. 

**

Crowley felt his phone buzz and stepped away from the group of stargazers to check his texts. There was one from Aziraphale. 

_ How are the stars? _

He smiled. 

_ Still in the sky, thankfully. It is a beautiful night for it, even if it is cold _ . 

Crowley waited, hesitant to go back to the group, hopeful that Aziraphale would text him again. 

_ I looked up at the stars tonight when I was on my way back to the dorm and thought of you _ . 

There was a pause.

_ It was comforting to think we were looking at the same ones _ , came the next message. 

_ You’re a sap _ , Crowley typed back. Then,  _ Are you alright? _

_ I will be, dear boy _ . 

Crowley frowned and pressed ‘call’. Aziraphale picked up. 

“That’s not a good answer, angel,” Crowley said gently. “Did something happen?” 

“Gabriel shared some thoughts with me this evening,” Aziraphale admitted, his voice soft on the other end of the line. Crowley felt a spark of anger. 

“What did he say?” 

“Nothing worth repeating.” 

That didn’t make Crowley feel any better about it. He stepped further away from his class, not wanting them to overhear. 

“Do you want me to come back to campus?” He would, in a heartbeat. Crowley should probably think more about why that was, but he shoved that thought to the back of his mind. 

“No, that’s not necessary.” Crowley heard Aziraphale hesitate. “Perhaps...perhaps we ought to get tea tomorrow sometime?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course angel. I’d like that.” The anger eased a little and Crowley closed his eyes. “I’ll text you when I wake up. We’re going to be out here late, but we’ll get tea alright?” 

“Excellent. Enjoy the stars.” 

“I will. Sleep well, Aziraphale.” Crowley hung up before anything else escaped his lips and sighed, tilting his head back up at the sky. 

“Protect him,” he told the stars with a frown, “if there’s nothing else you’re ever willing to do, no other prayers you’ll hear, let it be this one: protect him.” 

Then he returned to the group. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me about your feelings on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) or [Tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com).


	8. Hurting Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale feed ducks and discuss what happened with Gabriel. It convinces Crowley that it is finally time to ask Aziraphale on an official date, but as with many things it does not go the way he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind responses to the last chapter. There's a little more heartache in this one with some more next chapter, followed by comfort. Hang in there friends!

The next afternoon, tea in hand, Aziraphale and Crowley stood on a bridge over a small creek. Aziraphale held his tea between cold hands and peered over the railing at the water below. Crowley had climbed up the railing and sat on it, feet dangling precariously, coffee in hand. 

Between them on the railing was a bag of peas which they occasionally pulled a few from to toss down to quacking, grateful ducks. 

“Do you do this often?” Aziraphale asked, glancing at Crowley. 

“Yeah, I like ducks.” He reached into the bag of peas and scattered more across the water, watching as they paddled over and snapped them up. Aziraphale’s gaze lingered on Crowley’s face while he wasn’t looking. “They’re a bit ridiculous, really, but cute.” 

“I’m inclined to agree.” Aziraphale sipped his tea. Crowley had paid, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “How was the trip last night?” 

“Eh, fine. We had some really good views of the Milky Way. Have you ever been stargazing?” 

Aziraphale shook his head. “Not really. When I was younger I went camping and sometimes would look at the stars but I’ve never really known enough about them for it to constitute stargazing. I’d not know one group of stars from the other.” 

“Hm.” Crowley smiled and took a sip of coffee. “Maybe we’ll go sometime.” 

Aziraphale blushed. “I think I’d like that.” 

Quiet fell over them as the ducks quacked and splashed. It was finally chilly enough that Aziraphale had worn a coat, his favorite grey wool peacoat which he tugged a little closer around his middle as the breeze rushed by. Autumn, he realized, would fade into dreary winter more quickly than he’d like. 

He glanced at Crowley and found him staring. Neither looked away. 

“Ah.” Aziraphale finally glanced back at the water, ears hot with embarrassment. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, they were doing. 

“Angel,” Crowley said after a moment, “do you want to talk about what happened last night?” 

The warm sensation that had coiled around his stomach quickly shifted to something cold and nervous. He shook his head. 

“I’m afraid, dear boy, Gabriel is...Gabriel. I can deal with him in my own time. He shouldn’t bother you or your friends.” There it was, guilt returning. Somehow Aziraphale’s interactions with this new group were putting them in crosshairs none of them deserved to be in. This, he supposed, was why making friends could be so complicated. 

“Are you up for Sunday worship again tomorrow?” Crowley mercifully switched subjects and Aziraphale smiled. 

“Yes, but I imagine if you’re willing it may be time to move it into your flat.” 

“Yeah, ‘course. Happy to host.” Crowley hopped down from the railing, dumping the last of the peas into the creek to the chatter of happy ducks. He crumpled up the bag and stuck it in his jacket pocket. 

“Then I’m happy to read,” Aziraphale said with a smile. He held his tea in one hand and shoved the other in his coat pocket. They began to walk back toward the heart of campus together, Crowley looping his arm through Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale stiffened for a moment, surprised as he glanced at Crowley. 

“Is this alright?” Crowley asked. 

It took him a moment to settle his pounding heart, but Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, quite alright my dear.” 

Crowley smiled and Aziraphale thought it was one of the most wonderful things he had the privilege to witness. 

**

“Blondie.” 

Aziraphale glanced up from the book he’d been reading. It was the middle of the week, his Wednesday shift, and he was startled to find Bee standing in front of him. 

“Bee,” he greeted with a nod, marking his place and shutting the book. “How can I help you?” 

They stared at him for a long moment, dark eyes unreadable. They scoffed. “I was wondering if you had any book recommendations. Monster ones, like  _ Frakenstein _ .” 

His eyebrows rose. They’d nearly finished  _ Frankenstein _ on Sunday. A few dozen recommendations came to mind. 

“Have you read much from Stephen King?” He asked and Bee’s eyes lit up. 

“No, but I’ve heard of him. Show me?” 

It was nice, walking through the shelves with Bee quietly stalking after him. He showed them where they could find Stephen King’s works, then suggested a few other horror classics. By the end of it, they had three books checked out and lingered near the reference desk for a moment. 

“Can I help you with something else?” Aziraphale asked. Bee fidgeted, which was a strange look for them. He waited patiently for them to work up the courage to say whatever was on their mind. 

“We like it when you hang around,” they said finally, as if the words were being pulled from some painful place. “Crowley especially. So, you know, whatever that dick Gabriel says about you or us or whatever…” They shrugged. “Don’t let it get to you.” 

Aziraphale stared, unsure how to react as he was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. He swallowed and nodded mutely, trying to capture a single coherent thought while being bombarded with a sense of belonging. He’d gone from no friends to a whole cadre of friends in the span of a short month and he wasn’t sure what to do with that. 

Though doubt still lingered in the back of his mind in the form of Gabriel and whispered that he was walking down the wrong path. 

“I’ll do my best, dear. Thank you.” He glanced down at the desk and at his hands which rested on it before finally looking back up at Bee. 

Bee looked...uncomfortable. Tense. They nodded. “I’ll let you know if we should read any of these books for Sunday worship,” they said, holding them up. 

“That would be lovely,” Aziraphale replied. 

“Anyway, bye.” Bee waved, then made a hasty exit and Aziraphale laughed to himself. 

**

Crowley stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror Friday night, music playing on his phone as he reached up and fussed with his hair. He had plans, with Aziraphale, and bigger plans than that even. He had decided, finally, to ask him on a proper date. No more thin allusions to dates, or tea breaks. A proper one, where they could be on the same page. 

He was almost convinced of it, anyway, despite the way the thought of potential rejection made his stomach turn to mush. What if he’d been misreading Aziraphale’s shy looks and red cheeks? Would he risk losing a friendship he enjoyed over his desire to make it something  _ more _ ? 

“Ngk,” he said to the mirror as he buried his face in his hands. 

“What’s yer problem, Crowley?” Ligur asked from the doorway to the bathroom and Crowley looked up to find him leaning against the door frame, dark arms crossed over his broad chest. “Shouldn’t ya be with yer library nerd already?” 

Crowley had given up getting Ligur to call him anything else. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” 

Ligur’s eyebrows rose in a silent encouragement to continue. 

“I want to ask him on a date,” Crowley admitted as he slumped onto the closed lid of the toilet. 

“Ya haven’t asked him on one yet?” Ligur looked genuinely surprised. “What’s wit all the tea dates n’shit you go on?” 

“Those weren’t  _ official _ dates,” Crowley said, putting emphasis on the word ‘official’ as if it explained everything. “That was just two friends hanging out.” 

“Dunno,” Ligur replied skeptically. “Looked like dates ta me.” 

Crowley shot him a withering look and Ligur put his hands up defensively. 

“Alright, alright, not dates then. Obviously the nerd likes ya, why are ya so bitchy about it? Just tell him ‘aye nerd I think yer cute let me take ya to a movie and snog ur brains out’ or somethin’. Worked for me an’ Hastur.” He grinned. 

“There’s no way that’s how it happened,” Crowley insisted. 

“Maybe not those exact words, but snoggin’ was definitely involved.” Ligur waggled his eyebrows, then shrugged. “Yer librarian might be less inclined, but I dunno. Yer pretty snoggable.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the endorsement. I’ll be sure to add ‘pretty snoggable’ to my resume.” 

“Look,” Ligur stepped into the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub across from Crowley. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He slaps me for presuming he’s gay, and that he is interested in me as anything but a friend,” Crowley replied. “And then he never talks to me again.” 

Ligur’s expression surprisingly softened at that. “If that boy ain’t gay, then I’m a monkey’s uncle for one. Maybe a lil’ repressed, but he’s been makin’ eyes at ya fer weeks Crowley.” 

Crowley huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Second, if he stops talkin’ to ya just ‘cause ya asked him on a date? Then maybe he ain’t the type of person ya thought he was, yeah?” Ligur shrugged. “This seems like a low stakes thing if ya ask me. Might as well go fer it.” 

Crowley wanted to jump to Aziraphale’s defense, but perhaps Ligur had a point. Aziraphale likely  _ wouldn’t _ stop talking to him over something as silly as turning down a date. And if for some reason he did? Perhaps Crowley had misread the whole thing. 

“You’re right,” Crowley said finally and Ligur smirked. 

“‘Course I’m right. Been at this for a while now.” 

“Alright, get out so I can finish getting ready.” Crowley stood and Ligur followed suit, but reached out and ruffled Crowley’s hair. 

“There,” Ligur said. “All done.” 

“Out!” Crowley playfully shepherded him out and shut the door behind him, turning back to the mirror to fix his hair again. 

By the time he made it to the library it was well past ten, but he’d texted Aziraphale earlier in the evening to let him know he’d come spend the rest of his shift with him. As he approached the doors to the library his heart dropped when they opened and Gabriel strolled out. 

Gabriel’s lips curled into an unpleasant sneer as he spotted Crowley. He quickly corrected it into a fake smile and nodded as he brushed past him without a word. Crowley picked up his pace, catching the door before it shut and slipping into the library. 

He checked the reference desk, but Aziraphale wasn’t there. Crowley glanced around, worry plaguing him as he checked behind the desk, and then prowled around the library. There were a couple students toward the back settled in comfortable chairs reading and taking notes, but it was otherwise empty. 

No Aziraphale. 

He made his way back to the reference desk and made a frustrated sound. “Where are you?” He grumbled under his breath and pulled out his phone. Crowley dialed Aziraphale’s number but it went to voicemail. 

A few moments later he appeared from a back room, cheeks red and eyes distant. 

“Oh, Crowley,” he said quietly and forced a watery smile. 

“Angel,” Crowley replied just as quietly and walked around the reference desk, stepping close to Aziraphale. “Are you - are you alright?” He reached out and touched Aziraphale’s cheek without thinking, frowning when Aziraphale flinched and averted his eyes. 

“Quite, dear boy,” Aziraphale replied, voice soft and rough. “I’m afraid I’m quite tired and not going to be much of a conversationalist tonight.” 

“Aziraphale…” Crowley trailed off, at a loss. All his plans flew out the window in the face of a young man who looked utterly defeated. “Can I give you a hug?” 

The nod was barely there, but Crowley caught it and immediately put his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him close. Aziraphale went willingly, pressing his face into the soft leather of Crowley’s jacket as his arms went around his waist and held tightly. 

“I’ve got you,” Crowley whispered into his hair, lifting a hand to rest it on the back of his head, stroking his curls. “I’m here.” 

He felt Aziraphale sigh, a heavy rise and fall of his chest and shoulders, before he seemed to relax into the embrace. His fingers tangled in the back of Crowley’s jacket as he held on. 

There were so many things Crowley wanted to say.  _ Whatever Gabriel said, he was wrong _ being the first, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Whatever had transpired that night had clearly upset Aziraphale enough already and there was no point in opening old wounds. 

A moment later Aziraphale stiffened in his hold and pulled away, much to Crowley’s confusion. 

“I ought to...I ought to close up, dear boy,” Aziraphale said as he stared at the ground. “You should go.” 

There it was, the sting, a lance right through Crowley’s heart. He didn’t  _ want _ to leave. He wanted to stay to make sure Aziraphale would be alright, to protect him in case Gabriel came back. He wanted to know what on earth that bastard had said to leave his bright, beaming, sweet angel so deflated. 

He still wanted to ask him out, but it would be inappropriate now. 

“Are you sure?” Crowley asked, one last effort to stay. “I don’t mind staying.” 

“Please,” Aziraphale said softly. “I’ve got a lot to do and will make poor company. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He finally looked up, making brief eye contact with Crowley before he couldn’t maintain it. Instead, he walked over to a cart of books and began glancing through them. 

“Right.” Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned. “Tomorrow. If you need anything before then, angel, you’ve got my number.” 

“Quite right,” Aziraphale answered, distracted. 

“Right,” Crowley repeated. He took in Aziraphale’s slumped shoulders and ducked head one more time before he turned and made his way out of the library. 

He barely registered the walk back to his apartment. Crowley kicked off his shoes and made a beeline to his room. 

“Oi, Crowley, how’d it -” 

Ligur’s words were cut off by the slam of a door as Crowley flopped onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. 

Whatever he’d been worried about before,  _ this _ had certainly been the furthest thing from his mind. He ignored the gentle knock on the door, ignored the fact he was still in his jeans and button-up, and fell into a restless doze as he tried to outrun loud emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I'll post future snippets of this fic on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and I'd love to hang out with y'all on [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com). Come have conversations about Good Omens with me!!


	9. Friendly Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when the going gets tough it feels easier to sequester yourself away from the world until the terrible feelings. Other times, Aziraphale is learning, it is okay to accept help and lean on the love of friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bumpy ride continues, but I hope this has enough softness to make up for it. Chapter 10 is nothing but sweetness though so worry not. 
> 
> By the way, I've been rocking out to BANNERS as I've been writing this piece. Their latest album is amazing and [Supercollide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MX_GVa7jVts) just feels like the perfect Aziraphale/Crowley song.
> 
> EDIT: In my haste this morning I forgot a CONTENT WARNING. Aziraphale recalls some very hurtful things that Gabriel said and employs "queer" as a slur in context. This memory is in italics and easy to skip if it is too upsetting for anyone. Just want to be extra careful with this particular subject matter.

Saturday came and went with no reply from Aziraphale, despite multiple texts. Crowley didn’t like it but was at a loss. He spent most of the day in his pajamas in his room, working on assignments. 

The evening was spent sprawled across the couch with his head in Ligur’s lap, feet in Hastur’s, watching  _ Blue Planet  _ while Ligur pet his hair and didn’t ask about what happened Friday night. 

“I’m orderin’ pizza,” Hastur announced as he slipped out from beneath Crowley’s feet to presumably grab the menu out of the kitchen. 

“Good plan,” Ligur replied, scratching Crowley’s head gently. It made Crowley shiver and feel slightly less miserable. 

Finally, Sunday morning a text from Aziraphale came. 

_ Please pass on my apologies to the rest of the group _ , it read,  _ but I’m going to have to cancel Sunday worship today. I’m feeling a bit under the weather. _

_ Feel better, angel _ , Crowley texted back. Then he added a second text,  _ I’m here if you need anything _ . 

He didn’t expect a reply, but his phone buzzed a moment later. 

_ Thank you _ . 

“If he’s sick we should take him soup or some shit like that,” Bee insisted when they arrived with Dagon in tow, despite being told Sunday worship was cancelled. 

Crowley glanced at Ligur then back at Bee. 

“I don’t think he’s actually sick,” he admitted. “I think he’s upset.” 

There was a fire in Bee’s eyes that resonated with something deep inside of Crowley, an anger that had been simmering since he saw Gabriel’s distasteful sneer on the way out of the library. 

“Was it that asshat Gabriel?” They asked, fists clenching. Dagon rested a hand on their shoulder. 

“Maybe,” Crowley sighed. “I’m not sure. I saw him coming out of the library on Friday and Aziraphale looked like he’d been crying.” 

“Why does he let that dickhead push him around? I bet the God Squad is around here somewhere spewing their bullshit, we should go track them down…” 

“Bee,” Dagon interrupted. “I don’t think that will help Aziraphale.” 

“It will if we beat Gabriel’s ass so hard he forgets to ever talk to him again,” Bee bit out. 

“I think we just need to give him space,” Crowley said, despite liking what Bee had said. “Let him come to us.” 

“I  _ like _ Sunday worship,” Bee grumbled. 

“We could read without him,” Dagon said. It was the wrong thing to say. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve said in a while, Dagon,” Bee hissed. “It isn’t right to have it without him.” 

“Don’t be an ass,” Dagon growled, and Crowley looked surprised by the outburst. 

“Oi, everyone just shut up,” Hastur groused from the couch. “Stop being angry with each other when you’re angry about Gabriel.” 

Ligur shrugged, “he’s got a point.” 

Silence settled over them, uneasy and disquieting. 

“This fucking sucks,” Bee mumbled, deflated. 

They were right, Crowley thought. It sucked a lot. 

** 

“Aziraphale, I swear to the gods and goddesses that if you don’t open this door I will pick the lock and come in myself,” Anathema shouted from outside of his dorm. 

Aziraphale stared at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. He knew he’d been avoidant. There were unread texts from Crowley on his phone and he’d avoided the rest of the crew on campus for the past few days. He’d let Madame Tracy know he wasn’t feeling well and needed someone to cover his shifts. 

It was Wednesday, late into the evening after a full afternoon of classes. He’d retired to his room immediately, content to block out the world and avoid everyone, Gabriel included. 

There was an unread e-mail from him in his inbox, too, that he didn’t have the heart to open. He couldn’t take another lecture, another accusation, or more commentary on his life choices. 

_ “You’re on a path to fall from grace, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said from across the reference desk, voice low. “I know you keep hanging around those people. They’re blatantly living in sin. You must think you can bring them to the right path but there are some people who just can’t be saved.”  _

_ Each and every word made Aziraphale sick and angry. He wished, desperately, for Madame Tracy’s intervention. He also wanted Crowley to walk through the door, to diffuse the situation with his good nature. Instead it was just he and Gabriel facing off over an oak desk.  _

_ “Aziraphale,” Gabriel said seriously, gravely, as if he were about to deliver terrible news. “Are you gay?”  _

_ Aziraphale’s heart seized and tears came unbidden to his eyes.  _ Yes _ he wanted to shout, he was gay. He liked men. He always had. He’d tried to be attracted to women, tried to pray his attraction away, but at the end of the day someone like Crowley smiled at him and left him warm and happy.  _

_ He couldn’t just say that to Gabriel, though. Couldn’t admit it out loud. What condemnation would it bring down on his head?  _

_ “You should think about your choices,” Gabriel continued. “About what God would want for you, what your  _ parents _ would want for you.”  _

_ He tried not to cry, he really did, but tears began to fall from his eyes. His  _ parents _ , dead a good five years now, didn’t really get to have an opinion did they? Would his mom embrace him and tell him it was alright? Would his dad yell at him and call him a queer? There was no way to know how they’d react in this day and age, despite their beliefs.  _

_ “I see my words have hit the mark.” Gabriel looked pleased. “I’ll pray for you, Aziraphale. Know that we’re all here if you need us. You should surround yourself with believers right now. It is the only way to get back on the right path.” _

Gabriel had left and Aziraphale had hidden, shame curling around him in a vice as he sobbed in the dark of the back room. 

Now he was disturbed from his recollections by the sound of his door swinging open, letting light in from the hallway. He was curled up on his bed in an undershirt and a pair of flannel sleeping pants, face half buried in a pillow. 

“I warned you,” Anathema said gently as she turned on a lamp and shut the door. “Aziraphale…” 

“Anathema,” Aziraphale said, and then let out a quiet sob as he curled in further on himself. The bed shifted and he felt her shove him over, curling around his back and hugging him from behind. 

“Shh,” she hushed, reaching up to run fingers through his hair, brushing curls out of his face as he cried. “It is okay, Aziraphale. Shh.” 

She reached down and pulled a throw blanket over both of them, surrounding Aziraphale in soft warmth as he wept. His heart clenched with it, wracked by guilt and shame, barely soothed by Anathema’s soft words and touches. 

“I’m gay, Anathema,” he whimpered. 

“I know, Zira, I know.” He’d told her before. Or rather, she’d guessed. He supposed he was a bit obvious, but they’d never really  _ talked _ about it. It just...was. Which was nice. But now it was all the more relevant, and now there were consequences. 

A particularly wretched sob left him that forced his whole body to tremble and Anathema once again ran her fingers through his hair. 

“I’ve got you, Zira. I’m right here. You’re not alone.” She pressed a kiss to the back of his head and squeezed him around the waist. 

“What if I fall from grace?” He whispered when the tears had shifted from sobs to silent streams down his cheeks. “What if Gabriel is right and it is wrong to be gay?” 

Anathema made an unhappy noise in her throat. “I know Gabriel is important to you and you have known him for a really long time, but to believe he is the be all end all of theological thought is ridiculous Aziraphale. Especially for someone who loves research as much as you do.” 

“I don’t want to go to hell.” He didn’t. He didn’t want to suffer for eternity because he couldn’t manage himself on earth. He didn’t want to lose his connection to God. It was all too important to him, his faith, even if his was practiced differently than Gabriel’s. 

“You’re not going to,” Anathema said, firm and sure behind him. “Come on, sit up.” 

He sniffled and struggled into a sitting position. She grabbed a box of tissues off the nightstand and offered it to him. He blew his nose and wiped his face. 

They sat quietly on the bed together for a moment as Aziraphale tried to compose himself. 

“You think I’m a fool,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“No,” Anathema replied. “I don’t. I think sometimes you act like a bit of an idiot but you are one of the kindest, smartest people I’ve ever met. You’re not stupid, or a fool.” 

He didn’t quite buy it, but glanced at her and took in the gentle look on her face. She reached out and brushed some stray curls up out of his eyes. 

“I’m going to tell you a few things,” she continued. “And I want you to sit there and listen while I do, alright?” 

She waited, he nodded. 

“First, I have no clue what exactly Gabriel said to set this whole thing off. Whatever it was, he was wrong. Even if you have trouble believing his theology was wrong, if this is the reaction? You can bet his delivery was wrong. Despite being a pagan through and through, I know a thing or two about Christianity, and I don’t think any discussion of faith should lead someone as kind and good as you to hole themselves up in their room, skip their work shifts, and hide from their friends.” She paused, and Aziraphale stared at his lap. He didn’t want to look at her, wanted to contradict what she was saying, but he remained quiet and let her speak. 

This appeared to please her. “Second, you are the one and only Christian who has ever made me stop and think, ‘oh, there’s someone who gets it.’”

Aziraphale looked at her, startled, his eyes wide. “What?” 

She shook her head. “Hush.” Anathema reached over and took Aziraphale’s face into her hands, her skin warm and rough against his cheeks. She brushed stray tears away with her thumbs. 

“I watch you, even when you don’t realize it. I watch the way you claim you’re bad with people, but then shepherd stressed out students around the library to help them find what they need for their papers. I watch the way you reach out to people who others turn away from, not because it is going to score your points, but because somehow your heart is so big that you’re willing to share it with anyone and everyone.” Anathema’s smile was gentle and she leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. 

Aziraphale shut his eyes and sniffled. 

“You’re prissy, and put together, and fussy, and sometimes a snob about books but you’re also infinitely kind, and patient, and gentle in a way people need it. I can tell you, you’re a legend among my roommates because they believe you’ve somehow managed to tame Bee, who terrifies first years everywhere with their attitude.

“You started a reading group with some of the most unruly second years on campus, and they talk about it when you’re not with them. You bring people together in the most amazing ways, Aziraphale, and if that doesn’t make your God proud of you then you should come over and meet some of mine because they’d snap someone like you up in a heartbeat.” 

Silence fell between them and tears began to fall down Aziraphale’s cheeks anew. 

“And if God turns around and hates you because of the love you have for someone, then I don’t know that She’s really worth following.” 

Somewhere in his heart, Aziraphale knew Anathema was right. The raw, terrified thing inside of him was soothed, his existential angst lessening. God wouldn’t hate him for this, for being who he was. For being who She created him to be, and Gabriel certainly wasn’t God. 

“I’m sorry, dear girl, but I appear to be crying again,” he said, voice wavering as he sniffled. 

“C’mere, you idiot,” Anathema said fondly and pulled him into a hug. She wrapped him up in her arms and lowered them back to the bed as he worked through a rising tide of emotion. 

“You know what we’re going to do?” Anathema said after a while, right as Aziraphale had begun to doze in her arms. 

“Mm?” He didn’t have the energy to form words. 

“We’re going to watch terrible rom-coms on Netflix, I’m going to make Newt bring us popcorn, and I’m going to stay here tonight. You’re going to e-mail your professors and let them know you’re sick, and tomorrow we’re going to go into London proper and have a day to ourselves.” 

Aziraphale felt her smile against his forehead as she pressed a kiss to it. “How does that sound?” She asked. 

“Good,” Aziraphale replied, holding onto the guilt of skipping class for only a moment before he let it float away like a leaf on the wind. 

They followed her plan. She texted Newt, who appeared about twenty minutes later with bags of freshly popped popcorn. He bid Anathema goodnight with a kiss to her cheek and left them both in peace. Aziraphale e-mailed his professors claiming he had a cold and would see them next week. 

While Anathema scrounged around for a bowl to put the popcorn in, Aziraphale texted Crowley. 

_ Hello _ . That was it. He wasn’t sure what else to say. His phone buzzed a moment later. 

_ Angel. How are you? _

_ I’m all right, and I’ve been terribly dreadful to you this week I’m afraid. I’d like to make it up to you this weekend, if that’s possible? _

Anathema returned to the bed with Aziraphale’s laptop already logged into Netflix. How she figured out his password, he’d never know. She peered over at his phone. 

“Crowley?” She asked. 

“Start the movie,” Aziraphale replied as he rearranged the pillows and blankets so they could sit comfortably against the wall at the head of the bed. She obeyed, starting the movie as she settled the bowl of popcorn between them and dragged the throw over their legs once more. 

_ Yeah, I’d like that. And you haven’t been dreadful. I’ve missed you, though _ . 

That made Aziraphale’s leg bounce a bit nervously on the bed and Anathema glanced over at him inquisitively. He waved her off. 

_ I’ll be in touch Saturday, then. We can figure it out from there, _ he wrote back. 

_ Sounds good, angel. I’m here if you need anything _ . 

He locked his phone and set it aside, shifting to lean against Anathema’s shoulder. 

“Everything alright?” She asked, leaning her head against his. 

“Yes, dear, thank you,” Aziraphale murmured. 

They settled in to watch the movie, munching on popcorn into the early hours of the morning. Anathema teased him when he disappeared out into the hallway to go brush his teeth before bed, and when he returned she had stolen a t-shirt and pajama bottoms from his drawer. 

He settled into the bed and she embraced him, pulling and shifting until she was laying on her back with Aziraphale’s head on her chest. His arm was slung across her waist, his front pressed up against her side. Anathema buried her fingers in his curls and stroked gently. 

“Go to sleep, Zira,” she encouraged. 

Aziraphale nodded, shifting a little until he could relax against her, and then fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) or [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com) and talk about _Good Omens_.


	10. Figuring it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale meets up with Crowley to discuss a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the positive feedback on the last chapter! This one is just a soft little thing, and next chapter is almost twice as long and three times as fluffy! I've finished writing through chapter 13 and plan to start on 14 tonight. I'm still thinking this fic will be around 17 chapters but we'll see what the next few bring! 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and love.

Saturday morning came early when Crowley’s phone chirped with a text message. He’d been dozing, not really sleeping since about five when he’d woken up and remembered he was going to see Aziraphale. It had been a week since they’d seen each other in person and his heart ached. Spending Friday in his apartment instead of the library had been off putting. 

He clamored for his phone, limbs unwieldy with sleep and finally pulled it in and unlocked it. There was a text message from Aziraphale. 

_ Good Morning, dear boy. Do you think we could meet at 9 at the duck bridge? I’ll bring the peas _ . 

Crowley smiled and replied,  _ yeah, I’ll see you then. _

He checked the time. It was a quarter till eight, meaning he had just over an hour before he needed to hustle across campus. Rolling out of bed he slipped into the bathroom and showered, running through his morning routine with a bit more care than usual. He styled his hair and shaved his scruff, peering at his pale yellow eyes in the mirror after wiping the steam off of it. 

Once he believed he looked presentable he wrapped a towel around his waist and prowled back to his room to look for clothes. He ended up choosing a black shirt with red serpents patterned across it, along with his typical black skinny jeans. He checked himself in the full length mirror on the back of his door as he shrugged on his jacket. 

He looked fine. It was just Aziraphale. Aziraphale who had been so damn upset the last time he’d seen him, who had avoided him for a week, who…

Crowley shook himself out of his spiraling train of thought and made eye contact in the mirror. “You’re fine,” he said. “It’ll be fine.” 

Putting his sunglasses on the top of his head he made his way out into the kitchen and poked around until he found a box of cereal bars. He nabbed one and scarfed it down, continuing to check the time. Getting ready had taken almost half an hour, which meant he should probably head out sooner rather than later. 

He huffed and braced his arms on the counter, hanging his head to try and center himself. Why was he so nervous about meeting up with Aziraphale? 

“You’re up early,” Hastur said as he slinked by, heading straight for the coffee maker. Crowley noted that he’d bought pre ground coffee to put in it per his earlier suggestion. He tried not to roll his eyes. 

“Aziraphale wanted to hang out,” he tried to say casually as he stood up a little straighter and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“Oh.” Hastur glanced over and gave Crowley an appraising look. “Tell him we missed Sunday worship.” 

Crowley sighed. “I will.” 

“And Crowley?” Hastur asked as he dumped what Crowley thought was way too much ground coffee into the filter. 

“What?” 

Hastur glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t fuck it up.” 

It was ominous, and Crowley didn’t  _ entirely _ know what he was referring to but he could take one or two guesses. 

“I’ll try not to,” he replied softly, hoping beyond hope he wouldn’t screw it up. 

He made his way to the door and shoved his feet into his boots, doubling checking to make sure he had his wallet and keys before leaving. As he exited the building he shivered with the cold and zipped up his jacket, idly hoping that Aziraphale had the good thought to bring his own jacket because Crowley would be reluctant to give his up. 

His breath was visible in the air as he walked, October quickly coming to a close. Even though the past week had seemed endless, time was moving forward rapidly. They’d be facing the end of the semester soon and the holidays. He wondered if he’d get to spend any of it with Aziraphale. 

Making his way across the quiet, sleepy campus, he noticed the bridge in the distance and saw a familiar figure standing there. Aziraphale was dressed in a grey wool peacoat, the one he’d worn the last time they’d fed the ducks. It hugged his form, created an appealing silhouette in the morning light. Crowley almost stopped to take it in but decided he didn’t want to be caught staring. 

As he grew closer he could make out Aziraphale’s fluffy blonde curls and the pensive look on his face. When he stepped on the bridge Aziraphale looked over at him and the pensiveness faded away into a soft, nervous smile. 

“Crowley,” he greeted and turned as Crowley stepped up close to him. 

“Angel,” Crowley replied and resisted the urge to cup his cheek or pull him close. He kept his hands firmly to himself. “How are you?” 

“Oh, I’m alright.” Aziraphale’s waning smile told a different story. He looked tired. “It has been a strange week.” 

“I guessed as much,” Crowley said. “The group, they missed listening to you read on Sunday. I think Bee was about to start a riot.” 

“Were they?” That seemed to brighten Aziraphale’s mood as he glanced back at the few stalwart ducks in the water quacking and waiting for more peas. He indulged them. 

“You’ve got friends, y’know,” Crowley said after a moment, leaning against the railing and peering down at the ducks. “Friends who care. Who want to be around you even when you’re having a hard time.” 

“I am slowly beginning to understand that,” Aziraphale replied. “You all will have to have a bit of patience with me.” 

“S’cool.” Crowley glanced at him. 

“Do you know that I’m gay, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, brow furrowed, blue eyes serious. 

“I, er,” Crowley laughed nervously, “guessed it. Or assumed, I suppose. You, well, if you weren’t gay I figured you were at least bisexual, or bicurious or something.” 

“I’ve been sure of it for a long time now.” Aziraphale looked back at the ducks and Crowley thought he looked kind of sad. “I’d kept it to myself, or tried to, until more recently. Being here, at University, I was a little more free. There were fewer people watching.” 

Crowley listened and held back a reply, leaving space for Aziraphale to share. 

“So I guarded myself a little less, tried to be a little bit more...me. Anathema, well, she certainly helped. Then I stumbled into you, and through you I met Bee, and Hastur, and Ligur, and Dagon. Such an interesting group of people all so unapologetically themselves.” He smiled down at the ducks as he tossed a few more peas. “It was inspiring, really.” 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, and Crowley met his eyes, lifting his shades from them because it seemed important to. 

“Would you, well,” Aziraphale glanced down at his feet and then back up. “Go on a date with me, perhaps? A real one. If you would have me. I’d like to take you to a movie, or on a picnic, or perhaps we could go stargazing? To be honest I don’t really care what we do as long as I get a chance to do it with...you.” 

“You beat me to the punch,” Crowley said before he could clip the words. Aziraphale gave him a puzzled look. “That Friday, when I walked in after Gabriel, I intended to ask you out on a date. It didn’t seem appropriate at the time but that’s what I’d meant to do.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked startled by that. Crowley stepped closer and reached up to touch his cheek like he’d done weeks ago. This time Aziraphale didn’t flinch away. 

“So my answer is obviously yes, let’s go on a date. Let’s go on a dozen dates. Let’s keep doing Sunday worship at my apartment. You…” Now Crowley felt a surge of emotion that threatened to choke him up, “you have people who love you, Aziraphale. Whatever your identity, whoever you choose to be, there are always going to be people who love you.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes misted over and he closed them, a few tears trailing down his cheeks. Crowley lifted his other hand up to cup Aziraphale’s face, brushing away the tears. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his nose, before he pulled him into a hug. 

Aziraphale went willingly, returning it as they embraced on the bridge. The ducks quacked incessantly below them and Crowley shot them a look before he kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head and held him close. 

“And if you need someone to punch Gabriel,” he mumbled into Aziraphale’s curls, “you’ve got half a dozen willing helpers.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale laughed, his body shaking with it in Crowley’s arms. “However tempting that is, I don’t think that’s the answer.” 

“Offer still stands, angel. You never know.”

Aziraphale pulled back from the embrace and gazed up at Crowley. 

“Do you think we might get breakfast?” He asked. “I know a little place that’s not too far of a walk that does wonderful crepes.” 

“I’d love to.” Crowley smiled and then offered Aziraphale his hand which he took, lacing their fingers together. “Lead the way.” 

Before they left he knocked the remainder of the peas into the creek to the chorus of very happy ducks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love yelling about Good Omens on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com/).


	11. Finding Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday worship resumes and later in the week, Crowley has a surprise for Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you everyone for the feedback. Your comments give me life. I'm so glad others are enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it!
> 
> Have a chapter that's 100% fluffy goodness.

Aziraphale arrived at Crowley’s apartment with two books held against his chest. He stared at the door, nervous. Sunday worship had become a thing of its own, living and breathing, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Was he doing the right thing? Was it blasphemy? Did he really care at this point? 

Perhaps bringing people together around a good story was its own kind of holy. 

He knocked and the door swung open a moment later, Crowley’s face greeting him. 

“Angel!” He said with a smile and ushered him inside, gently taking the books from his hands and leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. Aziraphale flushed, not quite used to the open affection, and glanced at Crowley shyly. 

“The crew is all here,” Crowley pointed out, “Anathema is already making quite the impression.” 

Aziraphale removed his shoes and peered into the living room. Anathema was on the floor with tarot cards set in front of her, both Bee and Dagon on their knees watching. On the couch sat Newt, towering above Ligur and Hastur even seated, engaged in what seemed like a lively conversation if his hand movements were any indication. 

Warmth settled over Aziraphale in that moment as his two little groups of friends blended together. He swallowed around a sudden swell of emotion and Crowley’s hand made its way to his lower back comfortingly. 

“Okay?” He murmured into Aziraphale’s ear. 

“Yes, quite alright.” Aziraphale turned his head to brush his nose against Crowley’s. Crowley hummed and it was a delightful sound against his skin as Crowley’s lips brushed his temple and then his ear. 

“Enough o’that you two,” Ligur called over, “ya can smooch all ya want once Sunday worship is over.” 

Aziraphale pulled away with a huff, not missing the devious smirk on Crowley’s lips. He took the books back and made his way over to the couch, dropping onto it. 

“We’re going to finish _ Frankenstein, _right?” Bee asked as Anathema collected the tarot cards and they all began to settle. 

“Of course. I’d never want to leave a story unfinished. I also brought another seasonally appropriate book. I thought we could all enjoy something from Agatha Christie.” 

Crowley set snacks on the table he’d gotten from the kitchen. They had a veggie plate, crisps, cheez-its, and candy corn (which Hastur admitted was his addition to it all). Everyone got their snacks and settled, Crowley squeezing onto the couch between Aziraphale and Hastur. Newt had moved to one of the armchairs to give Ligur space and Anathema had taken up a spot on his lap. 

Bee grabbed a throw blanket and a pillow and sprawled out on the floor, Dagon using their stomach as a pillow. 

Aziraphale looked around the room to ensure everyone was settled before he leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and picked up where they’d left off in _ Frankenstein _. 

The reading was easy, his audience captive and content. _ Frankenstein _ was a quick read followed by a short break to refuel on snacks. Then they all settled in again, Aziraphale leaning into Crowley’s side as he started to read from the other book he’d brought. 

By the time he was halfway through the afternoon had waned and the crew around him dozed. It wasn’t terribly uncommon, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the only time in a busy week that anyone here had a chance to truly relax. It left him bubbling with warmth and joy, grateful to give this gift to his friends. 

Anathema had slid to the floor and fallen asleep with her head on Newt’s knee. Newt, on the other hand, still appeared rapt at attention as Aziraphale read. Hastur was awake, wrapped up in Ligur’s arms who had his eyes closed. Bee was on the ground on their stomach, head on their arms, snoring softly. Dagon sat near them, head tilted back to peer up at the ceiling as they listened. 

Crowley mussed Aziraphale’s hair as he finished the chapter and put in a bookmark, closing the book. 

“This one should go twice as long,” Dagon pointed out, “considering we missed last week.” She grinned at Aziraphale. 

“Lady’s got a point,” Ligur grumbled, eyes still closed. 

“Well I’m afraid however much I like reading, doing it for hours on end does take its toll. We’ll finish this one next week, I promise.” Aziraphale couldn’t fight his own little smile, continually surprised by how much they all seemed to enjoy his reading. 

“Well as long as you promise,” Dagon replied. She then reached over and ran her fingers through Bee’s hair. “Hey sleepyhead, wake up.” 

“Fuck off,” Bee grumbled, swatting away her hand and shifting away. 

Dagon snorted. Anathema looked awake finally and glanced around the room, making brief eye contact with Aziraphale. She smiled. 

“This was delightful, Aziraphale. Thank you for inviting us.” 

“Oh, well, you’re always welcome.” 

“Want to come hang at our apartment for a bit, Anathema?” Dagon asked. “We’d love more tarot readings.” 

“Newt’s gotta stay here and swap stories with us from the computer science department,” Hastur insisted. 

“I could,” Newt offered, glancing at Anathema. “I’ve got a lot of them.” 

Chatter picked up across the room that didn’t involve Aziraphale. He uncurled from his position against Crowley and slipped from the couch. 

“Angel?” 

“Just popping off to the bathroom, dear,” he said as he set the books on the side table and disappeared into the hallway. 

Once he was away from the sounds he did use the bathroom, and after he’d washed his hands he stared at himself in the mirror. It had been a long week and despite all the good his heart was still anxious. He wished that for more than a moment he could absorb all the confidence in the room and own it. His friends were so free, so kind, and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

A knock came and it startled him. 

“One moment,” he said. 

“It is me, angel.” Crowley, his voice edged with concern. 

Aziraphale walked over and opened the door, offering Crowley a little smile. “Need to use the bathroom?” 

“No, I needed to check on you.” Crowley backed him into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, yes of course. Everything has just been...a lot. A lot of good, some hard, but a lot.” He swallowed and reached out to rest his hands against the collar of Crowley’s shirt, pretending to smooth it out. 

Crowley reached up and covered Aziraphale’s hands with his own. “I don’t have any profound advice or anything to say except that I’m glad you’re letting us be here for you.” 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale glanced away, blushing. 

“Hope you’re not being nasty in there!” Hastur called out from the other side of the door. “I need to piss.” 

Crowley brought one of Aziraphale’s hands to his lips and kissed his knuckles. 

“Come on, angel. We should make sure the rest of the crew isn’t getting up to nonsense.” 

Aziraphale allowed Crowley to lead him out of the bathroom, Hastur smirking as he slipped in after they left.

**

The week was wonderfully uneventful. He’d been certain he would receive a visit from Gabriel at least once, but he hadn’t shown his face. It was good, he thought. Maybe Gabriel had said his piece and would finally leave him alone. 

Some part of him knew that wasn’t true, but he could hope. 

He turned up to his shift on Friday and stopped at the reference desk, confused. Sitting behind it was Anathema who looked up and offered him a bit of a lopsided smile. 

“Sorry, Aziraphale. Your shift is taken tonight.” 

“Sorry?” Aziraphale frowned at her. “How do you mean?” 

Anathema’s eyebrows rose as she took a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. 

“What’s this?” He stepped forward and picked it up suspiciously. Scrawled across the front was his name and he looked back up at Anathema. 

“Look, you’ll have to talk to your suitor about that. He got in touch with Madame Tracy and asked if I could take your shift tonight, then told me to give you that.” She tapped the desk to indicate the paper he’d picked up. “So you should read it and do whatever it says, and you better text me at the end of the night to tell me how it goes.” 

Aziraphale blushed when the reality of the situation hit him. He looked at the note in his hands and then back up at Anathema. “Crowley did all this?” 

“Yes. Now read it and get the hell out of here.” She waved him off. “I’ll do my best not to burn down the library tonight.” 

“Right.” He was at a bit of a loss, looking between the note in his hands and Anathema. 

“Hey.” Anathema’s mirth drifted into something more akin to sympathy. “You’ll be alright, Zira. Let him woo you. You deserve it.” 

“I hope you’re right,” he replied quietly. 

“Text me, even if it all goes pear shaped, alright?” 

“I quite like pears,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

Anathema snorted. “Get out.” 

He obeyed, leaving the library and unfolding the note. Crowley’s handwriting was best described as ‘scrawling’, but legible nonetheless. 

_ Angel, _

_ I’m only kind of sorry to spring date night on you like this. Mostly I just hope you like surprises. Get ready however you’d like and meet me by the duck bridge at 8pm. I’ll be waiting. We’ll be indoors for the most part tonight so you don’t have to dress too warmly. _

_ See you soon. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Crowley _

Aziraphale read the letter twice before he folded it up and tucked it away in his pocket. He had just under half an hour to get ready and hustled back to his dorm room. He switched into a light blue button-up and pulled a blue-and-grey argyle sweater vest over it. He matched it with darker gray dress pants and checked himself in the mirror. 

Was he date ready? Did he look too old fashioned? He fussed with his curls which flopped whichever way they wanted, as they always did. His heartbeat picked up and he took a few deep breaths and had to close his eyes for a moment. It was just Crowley. They’d gone on enough date-like outings that it shouldn’t affect him like this. 

His phone buzzed. 

_ You’ll look handsome no matter what you choose to wear, angel _, read a text from Crowley. 

He laughed nervously. Was he that predictable?

One last glance in the mirror told him he was as good as he was going to get. He grabbed his peacoat off the hook and pulled it on along with a grey tartan scarf he wrapped around his neck. Then it was out into the night and toward the parking lot. 

He spotted Crowley beneath a lamp post near the duck bridge, his sharp figure bathed in fluorescent yellow light. He was such a long and imposing figure in the shadows, his legs going on for miles in the tight jeans he’d decided to wear. Aziraphale appreciated it as he approached, all too aware of the heat in his cheeks. 

Crowley glanced over when he got close and smiled. “Evening angel.” 

“Good evening dear boy,” Aziraphale replied. “Where are you planning to whisk me off to tonight?” 

“You don’t think I’ve just brought you here to feed the ducks?” 

“Considering I think the ducks are all resting by now, I find it unlikely.” He stepped closer, drawn by the way the shadows played across Crowley’s sharply angled face. His pale golden eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim light. 

“How observant,” Crowley murmured as he reached out and put his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him close. 

Aziraphale buried his face in his shoulder, breathing in Crowley’s warm, spicy cologne and the familiar scent of his leather jacket. 

“You look very handsome tonight,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“And you look lovely as always,” Crowley replied, resting his cheek on top of Aziraphale’s head. “I thought we’d go to the Tate tonight, then get hot chocolate and walk along the river.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help his immediate smile. He stepped back to meet Crowley’s eyes. “That sounds wonderful.” 

“Good. I’m going to call us a cab then.” 

The drive to the Tate was quick and painless, and Crowley held the door to the museum open as Aziraphale stepped in. They spent an easy hour and a half there, wandering through the galleries. Partway through Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand in his and laced their fingers together as they pulled each other along, sharing soft conversations about pieces that caught their eye. 

When they were tired of the museum they stopped at a late night cafe to get hot chocolate and, still holding hands, made their way along a winding river path. The night was chilly, but the chocolate kept one hand warm and Crowley’s hand in his kept the other. 

“Did you enjoy it?” Crowley asked in the quiet of the night. 

“Very much,” Aziraphale answered. 

“Good.” 

When Aziraphale glanced over he caught Crowley’s smile. He pulled him to a stop and Crowley looked over curiously.

“Alright?” He asked. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began, nerves bubbling up in his stomach. “I’d quite like to kiss you, if you’re...open to such a thing.” 

The corners of Crowley’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “I’d quite like that too.” 

“Well good. I might...well. I might not be good at it.” 

Crowley huffed. “Try me.” 

Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s hand and brought his up to rest on Crowley’s cheek. He leaned up just slightly, Crowley having an inch or so more on him, and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. 

Crowley hummed, Aziraphale smiled against his lips and then pulled back. He brushed their noses together. 

“Your nose is cold,” Crowley pointed out. 

“Yours is too,” Aziraphale said with a little giggle he couldn’t contain. 

“Mm. I should fix that.” He brushed his lips to Aziraphale’s nose, then leaned in to press their lips together again. It turned Aziraphale’s insides to syrup as he stroked his thumb over Crowley’s cheek bone and returned the kiss. 

They broke apart a moment later, gazing into each other’s eyes before Aziraphale looked away. His cheeks were warm, and Crowley brushed a kiss to one. 

“We should finish our walk and catch a cab back to campus,” he said. “Before we freeze to death.” 

“Lead the way then, my dear.” 

Crowley took his hand again and led him further down the river path. They eventually switched directions and returned to the street where Crowley hailed a cab. It took them back to campus and Crowley walked Aziraphale to his dorm, their hot chocolate long finished and disposed of. 

“I believe this is your stop,” Crowley said as he pulled Aziraphale close in front of the dorm building. 

“I believe you’re right as always.” He rested his hands against Crowley’s chest and curled his fingers in the lapels of his leather jacket. 

Crowley dipped his head down and stole another kiss. Aziraphale used his grip on his jacket to hold him there, sharing breath and soft brushes of lips with Crowley. It was empowering and wonderful and he didn’t want it to end. 

However, Crowley eventually pulled back with a smile. “How was this for our first official date, hm?” 

“I think crepes counted as the first,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

“How, then, was this for our _ second _ official date?” Crowley raised his eyebrows. 

“Absolutely lovely.” And he meant it. The only thing as of late that had left him this warm and content was Sunday worship, and it didn’t hold a candle to how he felt in the circle of Crowley’s arms. 

“We’ll do it again soon. There’s a Halloween party coming up that the Theatre Club is throwing in a week and a half. I’d like it if you’d be my date. What do you think?” 

“Would we have to have matching costumes?” Aziraphale made a face. 

Crowley snickered. “Yes, but I’ve already got an idea and I think you’ll like it.” 

“Oh?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose curiously. 

“I’ll tell you about it once I talk to the rest of the misfits we call friends, just to make sure everyone is on board. For now, though, I think we ought to call it a night hm?” Crowley reached up and brushed his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. It made him shiver. 

“You’re likely right.” Aziraphale was still loathe to let the night end. 

“One more kiss, and then we both ought to get somewhere warmer.” 

“One more kiss then,” Aziraphale agreed and yanked Crowley down into one that was a little deeper than the previous gentle brushes. He wasn’t experienced, but he did let his lips part and coaxed Crowley to do the same. 

Crowley pressed flush against him and groaned softly as their tongues touched. Crowley was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against Aziraphale’s. 

“That’s playing dirty,” he murmured, sounding a bit out of breath. 

Aziraphale pressed a smirking kiss to the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” 

“You’ll be the death of me, angel.” 

“Oh I certainly hope not.” Aziraphale accepted a final forehead kiss before they stepped away from each other. 

“Have a good night, Aziraphale.” 

“And you, Crowley.” He offered him a soft smile and, after hesitating for another moment, finally turned and hopped up the steps to the dorm door. 

Aziraphale glanced back once more to find Crowley watching him, eyes shining, before he swiped his ID card and disappeared inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love it when people come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) where I post excerpts as I work and on [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com/).


	12. Taking a Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Misfit Crew attends a Halloween party and Aziraphale gets cornered by Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to comments - yesterday was busy, and today is very much the same! But I've been reading them on the go and am so, SO thankful that people are liking this story!
> 
> This chapter has a lot of fun, and a little bit of hurt. Gabriel returns and while I don't think anything he says needs a content warning, I will say he tries to be a little emotionally manipulative. It is alright, though. Aziraphale is a tough cookie. I did have a lot of fun writing the costumes for the Halloween party and have never been more tempted to commission art of my own fic than I am to see Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes drawn...hnng. If I end up doing it I'll be sure to share.

As Halloween approached, Sunday worship ended with a discussion of costumes. The entire Misfit Crew, as Crowley had dubbed them for this purpose, had agreed to coordinate their costumes and all attend. 

“I should spike the punch,” Hastur suggested as Bee sat on the floor with a laptop ordering pieces for their costumes online. 

“You shouldn’t,” Crowley said. 

“Yer no fun, Crowley.” Ligur shook his head. 

“I imagine someone else may beat you to the punch anyway, so to speak,” Aziraphale answered. 

A chorus of groans filled the room and Aziraphale huffed indignantly. 

“That was a good pun,” he insisted. 

“All puns are terrible,” Dagon insisted right back. 

Crowley smiled at his little family and preened a bit, glad Aziraphale had fit right in. He slithered along the floor from where he’d been sitting next to Bee and instead settled at Aziraphale’s feet. He pressed his cheek to his knee and Aziraphale idly ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Anathema and Newt agreed to join us, too,” Aziraphale said. “They’re going to be thematically appropriate, but not exactly match with the rest of us. I hope that’s alright.” 

“It is fine, angel,” Crowley insisted. He was the one who had organized the whole thing in the first place, anyway. 

“Why’s the party got to be on a Thursday?” Hastur groaned after a moment. 

“‘Cause that’s the day Halloween falls on this year, ya idiot,” Ligur replied fondly and pat his leg in an attempt to console him. 

“Smarter to do it on a Saturday still,” Hastur said, shaking his head. 

Crowley tilted his head back to catch Aziraphale’s eye and received a soft smile in return. He realized, peering into lovely blue eyes, that he had it _ bad _. 

**

The night of the Halloween party Aziraphale met the rest of the group at Crowley’s apartment where they’d all agreed to don their costumes. He stood in Crowley’s bedroom and fussed in front of the mirror, frowning. Bee stood beside him and huffed. 

“You’re fine,” they said, pulling him to turn toward them and straightening his shirt collar. 

Aziraphale and Crowley had been separated because, despite discussing their costumes, the rest of the group decided they should get a chance to see each other only in their final form. Crowley was in Hastur’s room getting done up. 

“Are you certain?” Aziraphale glanced in the mirror again. 

“Crowley is stupid for you already and this is going to fry his brain,” Bee said, running their hands down the front of his waistcoat. “I promise.” 

Aziraphale huffed a laugh and said nothing more. His stomach churned with nerves and he tried to remind himself that it was just a party, nothing more. It was Halloween, everyone was allowed to look a bit silly. 

Eventually the time came where he was allowed to step into the living room and his breath caught in his throat. Crowley was dressed in a pair of form fitting dress pants, black as night, that hugged his hips and thighs. Tucked into it was a blood red dress shirt and over the shirt was a low cut, black waistcoat that somehow had shimmers of light like stars worked into the threads. 

His short red hair was styled up and fluffy and curling out from it were sparkling black horns that curved up about two inches past the ends of his hair. They matched the waistcoat and weren’t the cheap sort one got at a Halloween shop attached to a headband. They, from what Aziraphale could tell, must have been made of clay or some other comparable material. 

To finish off the ensemble, shimmering black paint had been used to create a snake sigil at his temple. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, taking in the sight before him. He was so bloody _ handsome _ like this. An outright fiend, really, if he were honest. His stomach flip-flopped. 

Crowley peered back at him, golden eyes uncovered in the dim light of the apartment. He stepped forward and took Aziraphale in, though Aziraphale was certain he didn’t look nearly as good as Crowley. He was dressed in a pair of cream colored trousers with a similarly colored button-up shirt. Over that was a white waistcoat that shimmered, similar to Crowley’s. 

Unlike Crowley, he wore a formal jacket over his ensemble, a darker cream, distressed to look older and well worn. Bee had fluffed his curls and set atop of them a circlet made of golden twists of metal, scattered in between which there were clear crystals that caught the light. It was meant to be a halo of a sort, tilted to the side on his head. 

To bring it all together, Bee used metallic gold paint to scatter shining freckles across his cheeks and nose. 

“Angel,” Crowley said and lifted his hand to brush his thumb over the freckles. Aziraphale grimaced and Crowley grinned. “They look fine. I promise I won’t mess up your costume quite yet.” 

Aziraphale shivered at those words and tried to duck his head away, but Crowley’s hand remained firm on his cheek. 

“None of that, now,” Crowley whispered as he leaned in and stole a kiss. It made Aziraphale warm from his mouth all the way to his toes. 

“Ugh,” came Ligur’s sound of disgust. “Get a room.” 

Crowley laughed and kissed Aziraphale’s forehead before he looped his arm through one of his and turned them toward the rest of the group. The rest of the crew had done their best to look demonic, but in their own unique ways. Crowley was clearly the leader of this demonic group of misfits. 

Bee had chosen to embrace the ‘Lord of the Flies’ motif and wore an ensemble that utilized fishnets and black speckles across their face to mimic flies fluttering around. Ligur had gone in a completely different direction, wearing a toy chameleon on his head proudly. 

_ “A chameleon?” Hastur asked skeptically during their planning on Sunday. _

_ “Look,” Ligur leaned in seriously, “what if the chameleon is the real demon, and I’m just a meat sack the little bugger is piloting around?” _

_ “You’re an idiot,” Hastur replied fondly. _

Hastur went for a ‘battered angel who had gotten slightly singed on the way down’ look, wearing a long jacket with soot stains on it. Dagon decided to play off of Bee’s costume and looked downright clerical, glasses and all, claiming she was ‘Lord of the _ Files _’. 

“Newt and Anathema are meeting us there, yeah?” Hastur asked as they all donned shoes and boots and made their way out of the apartment. 

“Yes, she said they’d see us there.” Aziraphale smiled and took one last look at the group of them. “Oh! We ought to get a selfie together. Crowley, would you take it? You’ve got the longest arms…” 

Aziraphale fumbled with his phone until he got the camera open and handed it to Crowley. 

“Gladly, angel.” 

They all huddled together and Crowley gave the word and snapped a couple pictures. The group then dispersed, headed in the direction of the theatre building. Crowley pulled Aziraphale behind for a moment, much to his surprise, his own phone in hand. 

“One more,” he insisted and Aziraphale couldn’t help but beam. He had a difficult time remembering the last time someone had _ wanted _ to take a photo with him. He nestled close to Crowley and made a surprised noise when, in time with the photo, Crowley turned and planted a kiss on his cheek. 

“You’ll have to send that to me,” Aziraphale insisted as Crowley pocketed his phone. 

“Of course.” Crowley reached down and laced their fingers together as they hustled to catch up to the rest of the group. 

Upon arriving at the theatre building they ran across Anathema and Newt. Anathema was, unsurprisingly, dressed up as a rather fashionable witch. Newt appeared to be a black cat. 

“He’s my familiar,” Anathema explained with a smile, her arm looped with Newt’s. 

“Mrow,” Newt said and then grinned. 

The party sprawled between a small gymnasium and the actual theatre, the stage set up as a mini haunted house with actors prowling around props. In the gymnasium there was a long table filled to the brim with snacks and, as predicted, punch. Aziraphale didn’t bother trying it, uninterested in risking drinking alcohol. He’d rather be sober, all the better to drink in every detail of Crowley’s touch throughout the night. 

“Dance with me, angel,” Crowley said eventually as they stood near the snacks. Hastur and Ligur had already disappeared into the crowd, Dagon dancing with Anathema as Newt hung out by the punch with Bee. 

“Oh I don’t...I don’t know,” Aziraphale laughed nervously and shook his head. “I don’t really dance.” 

“You do with me,” Crowley insisted as he tugged Aziraphale into the crowd of people and then turned to him, his hands going to Aziraphale’s waist. 

“Ah.” Aziraphale was certain his cheeks had to be bright red at that point as he shyly lifted his hands to Crowley’s shoulders and pressed close. 

They started to move to the music. It wasn’t a slow song persay, but certainly something soft that allowed for gentle steps that were more about staying close than anything else. 

“You’re beautiful tonight, angel,” Crowley whispered into his ear and then pressed a kiss just below it. Aziraphale shivered and curled his fingers in the soft fabric of Crowley’s blood red shirt. 

“I’m beautiful? Dear boy have you looked at yourself tonight? Talk about stunning…” Aziraphale was a little out of breath, nerves getting the better of him despite soldiering on. “The horns, this color on you, your waistcoat...I can’t believe I’m allowed to be seen with you.” 

“Hush,” Crowley admonished. “I’m the luckiest man here to have you on my arm tonight.” One of his hands slid down to Aziraphale’s rear and pulled him flush to him for a moment, drawing a surprised gasp out of Aziraphale who buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder. 

“You flatter me,” Aziraphale murmured. 

“Not flattery, truth.” Crowley brushed his lips to Aziraphale’s neck and then pressed an open mouthed kiss to his skin. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whined. “There are _ people _.” 

“You’re right.” Crowley backed off just slightly, his hands returning to Aziraphale’s hips. He leaned forward to press their foreheads together, gazing at him in a way that Aziraphale could only describe as _ adoring _. “I’m sorry. You’re just irresistible.” 

“You’re a fiend,” Aziraphale huffed. 

“Tonight I’m an absolute devil, and you’re my quarry.” Crowley grinned. 

“Sorry boys, but I’d like a dance with my demon liege,” Ligur said as the music picked up. “Would ya do me the honor, Lord Crowley?” 

Both Aziraphale and Crowley laughed. “It would please me greatly,” Crowley said and then glanced at Aziraphale. 

“Go on dear, I think after all this I need a little water.” He squeezed Crowley’s arm and made a surprised noise when Crowley swooped in and stole a kiss before he allowed Ligur to pull him deeper into the hustle and bustle of the dance floor. 

Aziraphale slipped out of the gym to make his way toward the bathroom when he was intercepted by the last person he wanted to see.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel greeted. Behind him stood Sandalphon, neither of them in any sort of costume that Aziraphale could discern. 

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale replied, the name nearly catching in his throat. “Come for the party then?” 

He scoffed. “Hardly. I decided to stop in to see how bad it was, but I didn’t expect to find you here. Cute costume.” 

Aziraphale took a step backward and glanced toward the gym, wondering what would happen if he just turned and booked it back there. He would likely be able to find Newt, since he doubted he’d been dragged into the dancing as of yet. 

“Thinking of going somewhere Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked and he saw Sandalphon casually move from behind him over toward the door to the party. 

Dread settled over him. Gabriel wouldn’t hurt him, would he? They’d grown up together for God’s sake, and while he could be a bit rough sometimes he wasn’t...he wasn’t _ this _. No, the posturing had to be just that, posturing. 

Aziraphale took a steadying breath. 

“What is the meaning of all this, Gabriel? Are you trying to intimidate me?” Aziraphale stood a little taller, determined not to back down for once. What was the worst that could happen? Gabriel had wielded hurtful words before, what more was there to say? 

“I’m trying to _ save _ you, Aziraphale. I saw you dancing with that boy, Crowley. He’d dressed like the literal devil and you can’t seem to get the hint. He’s leading you down the wrong path and I’m trying to keep you from making a mistake you’ll regret.” Gabriel stepped closer. He was taller than Aziraphale by a good four inches, broader at the shoulders too and it made for an intimidating shadow. 

“You know nothing about him,” Aziraphale ground out, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. “You don’t know anything about any of them. Maybe if you tried to talk to them you’d see they’re not _ bad _. They’re just people.” 

Gabriel shook his head. “Those people, Aziraphale, are living in blatant sin and don’t care in the slightest. Your parents raised you better than this. I know you seem to be having feelings for Crowley but it is a phase. Once you get away from them and come back to spend time with us you’ll get over him. You’ll forget about him.” 

“No!” Aziraphale shouted, the single syllable bubbling out of him like a volcano blowing its top. Words gushed out of him like lava. “You don’t know anything about me, Gabriel. You know what I am? I’m _ gay _ . I’m _ gay _ and I’m dating another man and I’m absolutely fine with that. It isn’t a phase, it isn’t going away, I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember and there’s nothing wrong with it!” 

His voice echoed through the hallway and Gabriel looked shocked. 

“Aziraphale…” He frowned. “You’ve really been spending too much time with them. Your feelings aren’t natural and you can control them. There’s a plan, and you’re wandering from it. What would your parents think about this? You, turning and living in sin with another man?” 

“They’re dead, Gabriel, so they don’t get an opinion!” Aziraphale snapped as he clenched his fists, blood pounding in his ears. His halo fell from his head and clattered to the ground as he shook in place. 

“You’re going to end up in hell, Aziraphale!” Gabriel finally raised his voice, the saccharine tone dissolving into genuine hurt and anger which made no sense to Aziraphale. “I’m supposed to help you! Protect you! Keep you from making bad choices and here you are, throwing it all away for - for him? Some boy you’ve just met?” 

“You’re not helping me Gabriel you’re hurting me!” Aziraphale snapped back. “You’ve been nothing but a - a complete arse! You walk all over me constantly. You judge me endlessly. You hold me to some bizarre standard and it isn’t fair! You’re no more responsible for me than I am for you and I want you to get the _ fuck _ out of my life!” 

Gabriel’s eyes widened at that. “Aziraphale -” 

“Shut up, shut up!” Aziraphale shouted, throwing his hands up in front of him. “I don’t want to hear from you anymore. I’m tired of it, Gabriel. I’m tired of your hatred and your terrible attitude. You can be as cruel to me as you like but you can’t talk about my _ friends _ like you do. They’re not - not deviants! They’re just people.” 

Tears, hot and unwelcome, began to slide down Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

“Aziraphale?” Bee’s voice came from right beside him and through the haze of tears he saw them stand between him and Gabriel in a defensive stance. “Hey Bible boy,” they said to Gabriel, “time to walk away.” 

“You don’t understand -” Gabriel began. 

“And I don’t care to. You’ve had nothing nice to say thus far and I don’t imagine anything else coming out of your mouth would be helpful in this situation so why don’t you listen to Aziraphale and,” they paused, “fuck. Off.” 

“We should go Gabriel,” Sandalphon said as he returned to Gabriel’s side. 

“But…” Gabriel looked like he was at a loss for words. Aziraphale felt hands grab his shoulders. 

“Angel.” It was Crowley. 

Aziraphale turned and buried his face against Crowley’s chest as another sob left him trembling. 

“Shh,” Crowley hushed, his fingers running through Aziraphale’s hair, his other arm wrapped protectively around his waist. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

Aziraphale heard Gabriel and Bee exchange more words but didn’t comprehend them, focused instead on pressing as close to Crowley as he could. He held onto Crowley’s waistcoat, clinging to him as Crowley pressed gentle kisses to his temple and the top of his head. 

“Wot happened?” He heard Ligur ask. 

“Where’s Bee?” Dagon said. 

“I think I’m going to take Aziraphale back to the apartment,” Crowley murmured. “Does that sound alright, angel?” 

Aziraphale nodded against his chest as he took deep breaths to try and quell his tears. 

“Aziraphale?” Anathema approached and he lifted his head and looked at her, Newt close behind. “What happened?” 

He pulled away from Crowley only to hug her, and Anathema squeezed him tightly. “What happened?” she asked again. 

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale warbled as tears welled up anew in his eyes. 

He felt as much as heard Anathema sigh, her chest rising and falling dramatically as she held him. “Figures. What an ass.” 

“Do we finally get to kick his arse?” Hastur asked from somewhere behind Aziraphale. 

“No, don’t think so,” Ligur replied, sounding disappointed. “Unless that’s what Bee’s doin’ right now.” 

“Hope so,” Hastur mumbled. 

“Angel?” Crowley asked, near Aziraphale again, his hand on his back. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes.” Aziraphale stepped back from Anathema who reached up and brushed some of his tears away. 

“You’ll be alright, Zira,” she said softly. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? If you want to.” 

“Okay.” Aziraphale took the arm Crowley offered him. “I’m…” he swallowed. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined the party.” 

“Oi, shuttup,” Ligur groused. “If anyone ruined anythin’ it was that prick Gabriel. You two go, we’ll have a dance fer ya.” 

Aziraphale tried to smile but it faltered and he just nodded. 

“Come on,” Crowley said softly. Aziraphale followed his lead. 

The cold air outside was nice against his flushed face and he wiped stubbornly at his tears. He was certain the paint on his face had been ruined. Then a thought occurred to him. 

“My halo,” he said, distressed all over again. “It fell.” 

“Dagon got it,” Crowley assured him. “You’re alright.” 

“Good.” Aziraphale sniffled. He pulled the handkerchief Madame Tracy had given him out of his pocket. It had been washed, and he used it to wipe his nose as they walked. 

Crowley, thankfully, didn’t engage in conversation. He seemed focused on tugging Aziraphale along. They made it to the apartment easily and Crowley let them in, both pausing to shuck their footwear. Crowley locked the door behind him and then took Aziraphale’s hand, tugging him down the hallway. 

“Let me clean you up,” he insisted as he shepherded Aziraphale onto the closed toilet seat. 

“You don’t have to,” Aziraphale mumbled, but he was too tired to protest any further. 

“I know.” Crowley ran the tap and wet a cloth before he stood between Aziraphale’s legs and tilted his head up by his chin. “Hi.” He smiled. 

“Hello,” Aziraphale whispered and closed his eyes as Crowley began to wipe his face, getting rid of the tears and the paint. 

“You still look handsome,” Crowley said as he tossed the cloth into the sink and cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands. “Still beautiful.” 

“Oh stop.” Aziraphale blinked his eyes open and peered up at Crowley, wondering what on earth Crowley could see in him. 

“I’ll never stop.” Crowley leaned down and kissed his forehead, his nose, each of his cheeks, and then pressed their lips together. 

Aziraphale leaned up into it, lips parting, desperate and needy and aching for _ something _. Crowley made a surprised sound in the back of his throat but pressed in, his tongue trailing over Aziraphale’s lower lip before pressing into his mouth. Their tongues stroked together as one of Crowley’s hands slid up into Aziraphale’s hair and Aziraphale’s fingers curled in the lapels of Crowley’s shirt. 

“Oh angel,” Crowley sighed against his mouth when they broke apart. Aziraphale surged up and stole another kiss. Crowley laughed but kissed back, tugging gently on Aziraphale’s curls. 

Then he pulled back, leaving Aziraphale panting. He turned his face into Crowley’s palm and shut his eyes. 

“Beautiful angel,” Crowley cooed and when Aziraphale looked at him again he was still smiling. “Stay with me tonight?” 

Aziraphale nodded and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and guided into Crowley’s room. The exhaustion hit him when he saw the bed, the emotional discharge just a half hour earlier catching up to him. 

Crowley, gentle and thoughtful as always, helped him undress and managed to find a t-shirt that would fit him. Aziraphale pulled it on and crawled into Crowley’s bed in it and boxers, burrowing into the sheets and blankets. He closed his eyes and listened to the opening of drawers and rustle of fabric as Crowley got ready for bed. 

Eventually Crowley shut off the light and joined him, pressing right up to Aziraphale’s back to spoon him. He draped a long leg over Aziraphale’s legs and put an arm around his waist. 

“Comfortable?” Crowley asked, nose brushing against the nape of Aziraphale’s neck. 

“Mmhm,” Aziraphale hummed, already drifting. 

“Wake me up if you need to, okay?” Crowley kissed the back of his head. 

Aziraphale hummed again in the affirmative and focused on the rise and fall of Crowley’s chest against his back. It was enough to quickly lull him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me about how much Gabriel sucks on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) or [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com).


	13. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bee goes after Gabriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter but it also ushers in a change in POV away from Crowley and Aziraphale. It is an interlude of sorts, because I think we are all curious about what happened between Bee and Gabriel. Plus, this is setting up what will be the last arc of this story. More to come soon. 
> 
> I may shift to an every-other-day posting schedule after this, since I've only written through chapter 15 and I've got a couple busy days coming up. So if there's not a new chapter tomorrow, that's why! But there will be one for sure on Tuesday. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support and positive feedback <3

“You’re an arse,” Bee growled as they charged into the night after Gabriel and Sandalphon. 

Sandalphon turned and looked ready to say something but Bee didn’t let him. 

“You, minion, _ get lost _.” They snapped the last two words and gave Sandalphon their best glare. He scowled and looked at Gabriel who had stopped and turned. 

“Go, Sandalphon,” Gabriel said quietly, and Bee tried to hide the look of surprise on their face. They had expected a fight. 

“You sure?” Sandalphon asked quietly, as if Bee weren’t standing right there. 

Gabriel gave him a withering look. “Yes, I’m sure. She’s not going to attack me.” 

“I might if you don’t start getting my pronouns right,” they snapped, trying to bury the uncomfortable sensation that always came with someone assuming pronouns and doing so incorrectly. 

Another surprise: Gabriel looked abashed in light of the correction, as if he’d only just then realized his mistake. The very fact he might have realized it was a mistake gave Bee the tiniest bit of hope that perhaps somewhere in that thick head of his there was a real person and not a caricature. 

Sandalphon looked between them one more time before he walked off. Bee waited for him to disappear out of sight before they turned their full attention back to Gabriel. 

“So as I was saying,” they began, “you’re an arse.” 

“Is that all you’ve come to say?” Gabriel asked, voice tight. “Because if so great, message received. You can run along now.” 

“Are you for real?” Bee asked as they stalked toward Gabriel, leaving only a couple feet between them. He tensed, nearly flinched, and they found that curious. And slightly flattering; someone as small as them intimidating someone as tall and broad as Gabriel was a bit of an ego boost. 

“I don’t understand the question,” Gabriel said and looked like he meant it. 

“You’re whole good boy ‘everyone is a sinner’ bullshit. I’ve met some pretty religious people in my life and none of them have ever been quite as big a twat as you.” Bee crossed their arms over their chest and stared. “You’ve got to understand, in this day and age, in the 21-fucking-first century that your behavior is ridiculous.” 

“Look, say what you will about my beliefs -” 

They cut him off. “No, no, Bible boy, I’ve got more to say. Or, I guess a question first: are you straight?” 

Gabriel sputtered. “Of - of course I am!” His voice went high defensively. 

“That’s alright, it is just a phase.” Bee shrugged. 

“I’m sorry?” Gabriel shook his head, “it _ isn’t _ a phase I’m quite aware of my preferences!” 

“Nah, once you hang out with the right people I think you’ll find that you’ll warm up to the idea of settling down with a handsome man somewhere. You’ll eventually forget you were ever straight.” They allowed the words to hang in the air between them as realization dawned on Gabriel’s face. 

“That is hardly the same argument!” He exclaimed. 

“Why? What makes it any different? What makes it any more likely that Aziraphale will wake up one day and suddenly decide ‘oh, I’m no longer attracted to men, I think I’m straight now’ than you realizing one day you’re gay?” Bee shook their head. “You’ve said some terrible fucking things Gabriel and I swear to Someone you don’t even realize what you say anymore.” 

Gabriel stared, his strangely violet-blue eyes wide. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. 

“Have you actually read the Bible recently?” Bee asked. “If you have, I think there’s a lot of parts you’ve skipped over. Primarily the whole ‘love your neighbor as yourself’ schtick. I feel like that was pretty prominent in there. Or maybe that’s too mainstream, have you tried Ephesians recently? There’s a verse about addressing each other with hymns and psalms. I don’t know about you, but your argument with Aziraphale back there sure didn’t sound musical.” 

He continued to stare, they weren’t sure what to make of it. Maybe, finally, something was sinking into the idiot’s thick head. 

“I’m pretty sure there is nothing in the Bible, whatever your argument, that says ‘and thou shalt yell at someone they claim to be a friend about how they are going to hell, and do so in public after cornering them in a hallway.’” They let their words sink in, watching. 

“You don’t understand,” Gabriel said far more quietly than before. He looked lost. It hadn’t quite been what Bee was aiming for but it was something. 

“Help me understand then,” they suggested. 

“I’m supposed to protect him.” Gabriel said despondently. The words hung in the air, begging for more explanation that didn’t appear to be forthcoming. 

“Do you really think that show you put on back there was protecting him?” Bee asked, dropping the scorn from their voice. “When you put aside all the bullshit and the posturing, when you actually turn and look at yourself, do you think you accomplished your objective? Do you think Aziraphale felt _ protected _ back there?” 

Gabriel looked at the ground. It was enough of an answer. 

“Maybe you should think about your own shit for a while and leave Aziraphale alone. Take some time to read the Bible you like to throw around and perhaps you’ll learn something.” They were done with the conversation. They turned to leave. 

“Wait,” Gabriel murmured and when Bee turned back, he was looking at them again. “I don’t…” He looked down at empty hands then clenched his fists and grimaced. 

Bee stepped toward him, closing the distance. He looked up and Bee raised their hand to his cheek. 

Then they drew it back and slapped him across the face. The smack resounded through the courtyard, echoing. Gabriel’s eyes widened as he reached up to touch where he’d been struck. 

“You earned that,” Bee said. “Figure your shit out, or else I’m going to go to the administration and share your homophobic remarks with them. We’ll see how well they sit with you then, eh?” 

Gabriel continued to stare in disbelief. 

“You slapped me.” He looked torn between awe and distress.

“I could do it again,” Bee offered, “in case the first one didn’t hit my point home.”

Gabriel took two steps backward and Bee held back a snicker. “Gabriel, because you seem so damn important to Aziraphale I’m going to make you an offer. Don’t answer now, I don’t care to hear anything more out of your mouth tonight if I’m honest. But, if you at some point decide you’d like to pull that big old stick out of your arse and want to actually learn about me, or my friends as _ people _…” they shrugged. “Then come find me. Otherwise?” 

They stepped toward Gabriel and he almost stumbled as he took a step back. 

“Stay away from Aziraphale. Clear?” Bee waited for Gabriel’s barely-there nod before they turned and waved over their shoulder. 

“Think about it, Bible boy. If you care about Aziraphale as much as you think, it might do you well to learn how to show it appropriately.” Bee kept walking until they knew they were out of sight. Then, and only then, did they shake their hand and hiss. 

“Fuck, that hurt.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com) if you'd like to follow my musings.


	14. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale processes the events of Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well alright, I found some time last night and churned out two additional chapters and...am now ready to write the last chapter. Looks like this fic will end with chapter 18 unless something surprises me in the writing. I LOVED every single comment cheering Bee on in the last chapter and I'm glad the interlude was a success. I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Have some morning smooches in this chapter. I will say, this fic will never have anything explicit though there may be things referred to. Enjoy.

Aziraphale woke the next morning in a haze of confusion. The sunlight on his face was wrong, his bed wasn’t this close to the window. There was also, he realized, someone very warm behind him and he was securely wrapped up in long arms and legs. The evening before came back in a rush and he closed his eyes against the memories. 

“Angel?” Crowley mumbled sleepily, nosing at the nape of his neck. “G’morning.” 

“Good morning dear boy,” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley buried his face between Aziraphale’s shoulders and stilled again. He couldn’t help but smile as he settled back against Crowley, trying to relax. Perhaps he could convince his mind to allow him a few more minutes of sleep. 

Instead, his mind decided to replay his confrontation with Gabriel again and again. He sighed. 

“Too early to think,” Crowley murmured. One of his hands slipped under Aziraphale’s borrowed shirt, fingertips stroking against his stomach. 

Aziraphale tensed and reached down to push Crowley’s hand away. “Crowley.” 

That seemed to actually wake him up and he pulled his hand back. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” His voice sounded clearer, the sleep chased away by Aziraphale’s own prudishness and sudden self-consciousness. 

“No,” he grumbled as he rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face into the pillow. 

“Aziraphale? What did I do?” Crowley sat up beside him and he sounded worried. 

Aziraphale shook his head, face hidden in the pillow. 

“Hey.” Crowley put his hand tentatively between Aziraphale’s shoulder blades. “I’m sorry I touched you. I’m, uh, no okay I won’t make excuses. I can be a little touchy feely in the morning but that doesn’t make it okay.” 

Finally, Aziraphale rolled over and peered up miserably at Crowley. “I  _ like it _ when you’re touchy feely,” he lamented. Crowley’s brow furrowed. 

“Then what did I do to upset you?” Crowley reached for one of Aziraphale’s hands and held it, lacing their fingers together. 

“I’m not…” he sighed. “Last night was a lot. And this is a lot. I don’t -” he sighed again, exasperated. “There’s a lot going on up here,” Aziraphale pointed to his head with his free hand. “It is difficult to sort through and it is making me rather touchy about things.” 

Crowley brought his hand up to his mouth and brushed a kiss to his knuckles. “I understand.” 

“You’re really quite out of my league, do you know that?” Aziraphale murmured as he glanced away. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that Crowley could see in him. Perhaps this  _ was _ all wrong, but a larger part of Aziraphale knew that was just the stress of facing Gabriel taking its toll. 

“Angel?” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale chanced a glance in Crowley’s direction. 

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

“Crowley -” 

“No. I’m not out of your league, and you’re not out of mine. I  _ adore _ you. All of you. Every part, and I don’t tolerate anyone insulting the things I adore.” Crowley brought his free hand up to Aziraphale’s hair, fingers running through his curls fondly. 

“Would you like to start the morning again?” Crowley asked after a few moments of quiet, letting Aziraphale ruminate. 

“Yes, I’d quite like that,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“Mm.” Crowley smiled and it was so brilliant in the early morning light coming through the window which illuminated the stark lines of his face. Aziraphale reached up and put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. One turned into a series of them as Crowley carefully shifted to straddle Aziraphale’s hips, leaning down over him. 

“Good morning,” Crowley whispered against his mouth. 

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied as he reached up and carded a hand through Crowley’s hair. They continued to kiss, exchanging slow passes of lips. Crowley nibbled on his lower lip which drew a surprised little noise from Aziraphale. It was all so new to him. He’d shared a few kisses in his time but nothing like this, nothing that involved a bed and warm, steady hips pressing down into his own. 

He realized, belated, that he’d grown hard and his whole face flushed hot. 

“Crowley…” he mumbled between kisses and Crowley just hummed into his mouth, stroking his thumb over Aziraphale’s temple and then dragging the pad of it down the side of his face. He cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, tilting his head back ever so slightly to deepen the kiss, pressing their mouths together firmly. 

Aziraphale’s hand slid from Crowley’s hair to the shoulder of his shirt, fingers curling tightly in the fabric. 

“Okay, angel?” Crowley asked, voice rough. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. 

“I’m, ah, getting rather...worked up,” Aziraphale admitted, uncertain. Crowley shifted to press his thigh up between Aziraphale’s legs and chuckled. 

“I can tell.” He let the statement stand, watching Aziraphale with those beautiful eyes of his, waiting. 

“Hn.” Aziraphale closed his eyes and squirmed, inhaling sharply as he pressed against Crowley’s thigh. 

“Oh?” Crowley asked as he lazily trailed his mouth to Aziraphale’s earlobe and took it gently between his teeth. He nibbled and sucked gently on it. Aziraphale whined. Crowley continued, pressing a kiss beneath Aziraphale’s ear. He pressed his thumb beneath Aziraphale’s jaw and tilted his head up, lips brushing his pulse in a way that sent pleasing shivers cascading down Aziraphale’s spine. 

The sound Aziraphale made at that was almost embarrassing as he tilted his head back further into the pillows. Crowley took the invitation and opened his mouth, laving his tongue against Aziraphale’s skin and leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses along his throat. It was enthralling, Aziraphale’s nerves on fire from such a simple gesture. 

Crowley’s lips found his again and Aziraphale buried his free hand back in Crowley’s hair, fingers curling and twisting in the already sleep tousled locks. He could feel Crowley shiver and felt more than heard the soft groan through vibrations against his mouth. Aziraphale’s mouth fell open and Crowley gladly licked inside. 

“You’re beautiful, angel,” Crowley whispered, hot against his ear after breaking the kiss. “You’re practically glowing the morning light. I wish you could see yourself.” 

Aziraphale tried to look away as embarrassment crept back up. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. 

“Nuh uh, no escaping,” Crowley said as he cupped Aziraphale’s cheek and held him still as he pressed kisses along his jaw. Aziraphale nuzzled his face into Crowley’s palm. Crowley’s lips brushed against the places on his cheek where his golden freckles had been the night before. “You’re handsome and kind,” Crowley continued. “A good friend. A good man.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whined as he closed his eyes tightly against the wave of emotion that threatened to bowl him over. 

“I could spend all day kissing you.” Crowley was undeterred as he drew the pad of his finger over the bridge of Aziraphale’s nose. “Pressing praises into your skin.” 

Aziraphale finally tilted his head back toward Crowley and opened his eyes, peering up into eyes of molten gold shining in the sunlight. It was so strange to be here, Aziraphale decided, pressed into a bed beneath a man he’d only known for a short time but already trusted implicitly. 

His hand found Crowley’s and he laced their fingers together, only to have their joined hands pressed into the mattress by his head. It made his breath hitch and Crowley noticed, eyebrows quirking up ever so slightly. 

“I don’t have much experience with this,” Aziraphale admitted quietly and glanced away. 

“With what in particular, angel?” Crowley asked. It could have been teasing but sounded genuine. 

“Relationships.” The answer was broad, he hoped Crowley wouldn’t make him explain further.  _ Sex _ came to mind. Kissing, touching,  _ affection _ . All of it was relatively new. 

“That’s okay,” Crowley replied as he chased Aziraphale’s gaze so he could make eye contact again. He smiled. Aziraphale’s heart fluttered. “We can figure it out together.” 

“Do you?” Aziraphale asked, nerves settling in. 

“Sorry?” 

“Have...experience.” He swallowed and tried not to fidget beneath Crowley who peered at him fondly. 

“Yes.” Crowley sat back on his haunches, straddling one of Aziraphale’s legs. “Some.” 

“Relationships or…?” Aziraphale watched him. 

“Both, angel,” Crowley replied with a laugh. “All of it. Does that bother you?” 

“No!” The answer rushed out of him before he could temper it. “Other than being slightly jealous that there have been others who have touched you and kissed you, anyway.” Aziraphale blushed and Crowley smirked. “I’m just worried that my lack of experience might bother you.” 

There it was. A fear spoken into the air. So many had been revealed and conquered already through his shouting match with Gabriel the night before. What was another? 

“Not in the least,” Crowley replied as easily as he leaned down and stole another soft, chaste kiss. “It is different with every partner, anyway. Relationships and sex, and whatever else comes with them. I want to learn  _ you _ .” 

Aziraphale shivered at the intensity of Crowley’s affectionate gaze. He fought not to look away and was rewarded with a brush of lips to the tip of his nose. 

“Now how about breakfast?” Crowley asked. “I think I could make something for us.” 

“The sounds wonderful my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, gazing up in awe at Crowley who offered him a warm smile. 

“Up and at ‘em then.” 

“Ah, give me a moment?” Aziraphale said with an embarrassed huff as he sat up, dragging one of the blankets over his lap. Crowley was on his knees on the edge of the bed smirking like the devious beast he was. 

“Want help?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale was tempted but shook his head. 

“No, just need to use the bathroom.” 

“Right then.” Crowley slid onto his feet and then leaned over to press a kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s head. “Go take care of yourself and I’ll get tea started.” 

“Splendid.” Aziraphale smiled as Crowley left the room and then made his way to the bathroom. 

**

Crowley emerged into the living room and was greeted by the sound of cooking. It was not necessarily a good sound, since neither Ligur nor Hastur had made themselves out to be proficient cooks. He prowled into the kitchen and stopped, staring. 

“Wot you lookin’ at, Crowley?” Ligur groused from where it appeared he was scrambling eggs. Hastur was buttering toast. There were freshly sliced apples and grapes on a plate. 

“You’re both cooking,” Crowley said, still staring in disbelief. 

“We’re not incapable of it,” Hastur pointed out. “Not like what we’re making is hard. Some scrambled eggs, some toast, some fruit.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve just never seen you cook anything more than a freezer pizza,” Crowley admitted. 

“Yer loss,” Ligur said with a smirk. 

“When do you think you’ll be done?” Crowley asked. “I was going to make something for Aziraphale.” 

Both Hastur and Ligur stared at him as if he were an idiot. 

“What?” Crowley frowned. 

“This  _ is _ for Aziraphale, you dunce.” More toast - it looked like a baguette upon closer inspection - popped out of the toaster. “And you.” Hastur pulled out the new pieces and added them to the growing plate. 

“Oh.” Crowley’s heart thumped particularly hard in his chest as he was struck with love. His friends were...wonderful. Little shits sometimes, but then there were moments like this that touched Crowley on a level that defied description. 

“This all smells rather wonderful,” Aziraphale said as he stepped into the kitchen and shyly slid an arm around Crowley’s waist. He pressed into his side and Crowley draped an arm over his shoulders. 

“Only the finest for you, I guess. I’ve known these idiots for years and they’ve never cooked for me once.” Crowley turned and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple, not missing the high flush of his cheeks. 

“Never asked,” Hastur said. 

“Never earned it,” Ligur added. 

“My friends, everyone,” Crowley gestured widely to them with his free hand and grinned at Aziraphale. 

Food was divided out onto plates and the four of them took up spots in the living room to eat. Crowley and Aziraphale took each side of the couch, Crowley tucking his legs beneath himself while Aziraphale sat cross-legged. Hastur took the armchair, Ligur took the floor at his feet. 

“How’re you feelin’, Aziraphale?” Ligur asked before he took a crunchy bite of baguette. 

“Oh.” Crowley noticed the way Aziraphale shyly ducked his head. “I’m alright, thank you for asking. I hate to say it but I’m somewhat used to Gabriel’s antics by now.” 

“Those weren’t antics,” Hastur pointed out. “That was him being a right arse and you finally telling him off. S’good.” 

Aziraphale wilted and began to push what remained of his eggs around the plate. Crowley shifted, extended a leg, and tapped Aziraphale’s knee with his toes. He got a fond little smile for his trouble. 

“I’m afraid it is all a bit more complicated than that. I know how Gabriel comes off but you must understand, he  _ is _ my friend. Or, well, if not a friend then he’s family.” Aziraphale finally took another bite of breakfast. 

“He’s family?” Hastur asked, mouth full. Ligur shot him a scolding look which he promptly ignored. 

“Not in the literal sense. We’re not brothers by blood but I did live with him while I completed school. His parents, ah, took me in. They are my God parents actually.” 

Crowley watched the way Aziraphale’s shoulders hunched at the admission. He tapped his toes against his knee again and Aziraphale glanced up at him, his beautiful blue eyes anxious. 

“Somethin’ happen to your parents?” Ligur asked, but Crowley was surprised at how gentle the question was. It was an invitation, not an assumption. 

“Yes. I’m afraid they passed away when I was about thirteen. Car accident, while doing mission work elsewhere in the world. I’d been staying with Gabriel’s parents at the time in the United States where I’d been temporarily going to school.” Aziraphale stared at his plate as he spoke. “After that, they became my legal guardians. Moved to England so that I could be closer to extended family. Anyway, I say all that to say that Gabriel and I grew up in the same household so to say our relationship is complicated is really simplifying what it is.” 

Crowley glanced over at Hastur and Ligur, both of whom had stopped eating to listen. Ligur had an unreadable look on his face, Hastur’s face was pinched in sympathy. 

“Well,” Ligur said after a moment of silence, giving Aziraphale’s story the quiet weight of consideration it deserved. “Whatever the case, yer safe with us Aziraphale. We’re family now, too. Ain’t no gettin’ rid of us, and if Gabriel pulls that shit again we’ll make sure he knows what’s what.” 

Crowley watched the smallest of smiles creep across Aziraphale’s lips. 

“Thank you,” he said very softly. “That means more than I think any of you quite realize.” He looked over at Crowley and Crowley offered him a reassuring smile. 

“Now eat your food,” Hastur groused. “We worked hard to make it.” 

It broke the tension that had fallen over the room. Aziraphale laughed, thanked them for making it, and dug back in. 

Crowley relaxed back against the arm of the couch and watched his angel, the love in his heart growing exponentially. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to talk to me about these cute ineffable idiots? I love chatting on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com). I'm friendly, I swear!


	15. The Semester Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens at the end of the semester, including holiday planning, a lot of kisses, and a couple of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the last line of this fic last night. I can't believe it is wrapped...but there's so much more story for y'all. Excited to share the last few chapters with you. Thanks again for all of your kind comments. I haven't been able to reply to most of them because I'm been swamped, but I read them! And they make my day! So thank you.

Things returned to normal in Aziraphale’s view, if normal of course consisted of new visitors in the library almost every shift. As midterms came and went and his friends looked toward finals, they started to make a habit of spending time in the library, taking over tables and shushing each other when they began to get too rowdy. 

Aziraphale didn’t mind. He enjoyed the company between processing returns and tidying up bookshelves. Their closeness also provided a sense of safety, one that ensured even if Gabriel were to appear that he would not get much of a word in edgewise. 

One Friday night deep into November the whole crew took over one of the tables. Their respective books, notes, and laptops spread across the sturdy oak tabletop. Aziraphale joined them, enthralled by the energy in the library and the sounds of murmurs and shifting pages of books. 

It was heaven. 

“Aziraphale,” Hastur got his attention and Aziraphale moved from where he’d been peering over Bee’s shoulder to drop into a chair beside Hastur. “Would you read this bit and tell me if it is making any sense? I’ve been staring at this damned paper for so long my eyes are going cross.” 

Aziraphale laughed. “Of course. Budge over.” 

He delved into Hastur’s essay, skimming over the first bits for context before focusing on the part he’d specifically been asked to consider. After a few moments the table around him went quiet and oddly still. 

Aziraphale glanced up, confused, only to have his eyes land on Gabriel. He was dressed primly as always, a v-necked sweater in light gray with khaki trousers and a light jacket over all of it. His eyes flitted from one person to the next before they landed on Aziraphale and he cleared his throat. 

“I need help finding a book,” Gabriel said, making a clear effort not to  _ demand _ . Aziraphale found it surprising. 

“There’s a computer to search with right over there,” Hastur replied curtly. 

“I could use more help,” Gabriel insisted and looked imploringly at Aziraphale. “Please?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes found Crowley’s, as his boyfriend had been working with Dagon on an assignment for their astronomy class. Crowley offered him a questioning smile before he, too, looked at Gabriel. 

“If this is your way of getting him alone,” Crowley began, a note of warning in his tone. 

“It isn’t. I just need help,” Gabriel grit out, clearly trying to restrain himself. It was refreshing to see, though baffling for Aziraphale. Gabriel was not one to hold back. 

“It is alright,” Aziraphale said as he stood and walked around the table. “Come, let’s see if we can find the book you need.” He glanced back at his friends and offered them all a reassuring smile before walking with Gabriel toward the shelves. 

“What book did you need?” Aziraphale asked and Gabriel handed him a piece of paper. He glanced down and immediately headed to the correct section and began scanning the titles. 

“My parents wanted to know if you could send them your itinerary for the holidays, and if you needed help paying for the plane tickets since we’re having it in the States this year.” Gabriel stood stiffly beside him, tone conversational but hesitant. 

“I don’t,” Aziraphale said, thinking about his words carefully because he’d rehearsed them for weeks in preparation for this moment, “because I will not be celebrating Christmas with your family this year.” 

Gabriel inhaled sharply. “What?” Some of his old tone was back in the single syllable and it made Aziraphale grimace. 

“I don’t wish to go to the States for the holidays this year. I will write your parents a letter thanking them for their invitation but letting them know that I am going to stay here in England, to do some work for Madame Tracy over the holidays and earn a bit of extra money.” Aziraphale found the book and reached up to grab it, turning to offer it to Gabriel. He finally met his eyes. 

It surprised him, the hurt and confusion he found there. The utter surprise, too, as if this were the last thing Gabriel expected. Perhaps it was. He’d spent Christmas with Gabriel’s family since he was young. 

“If money is the issue you know my parents don’t mind helping,” Gabriel said quickly. “They’ll be...they’ll be so disappointed not to have you.” 

_ But will you? _ Aziraphale wanted to ask, but didn’t. He kept his thoughts to himself. 

“It isn’t solely about the money Gabriel, I think that should be obvious.” He sighed, still holding the book out between them. “I need to think about what I want my traditions to be, moving forward. We’re growing older, we’re adults, and while I will always appreciate your parents I need to figure out who I am in all of this.” 

Gabriel stared at him. “You’re staying for  _ him _ , aren’t you.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but blush. “Perhaps. I haven’t discussed any of this with Crowley, however. For all I know he has his own plans with family. I am doing this for myself. I am making this decision on my own. And perhaps I’ll be miserable and next year will gladly accept your parent’s invitation but this time around...I need to stay here, Gabriel.” 

A war waged across Gabriel’s face as if he were holding back a million things he wanted to say. Aziraphale nearly congratulated him on his self-restraint. This was new, and he wondered if their argument on Halloween had really made a difference or if there was something else going on. 

“I see,” was all Gabriel ended up saying as he took the book from Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice came from the end of the isle and he slipped up behind Aziraphale, hands going to his shoulders. “Hastur was asking after you, wanted you to finish reading his essay.” 

Aziraphale glanced at Gabriel who nodded. “Thank you, I’ll check this out and be out of your hair.” He turned to leave and Aziraphale watched him go. 

“Everything alright?” Crowley asked as he brushed a kiss to a spot behind Aziraphale’s ear. 

“Yes.” He reached up and put a hand over one of Crowley’s on his shoulder. “Strange, but yes.” 

“Better go help him check out that book, hm?” Crowley smiled and eventually dropped his hands from Aziraphale’s shoulders in order to slide an arm around his middle, leading him back to the reference desk. 

Aziraphale quickly checked Gabriel out and watched him depart before he made it back over to the table where his friends sat, clearly distracted from their work. 

“What did he say?” Bee asked. 

“Nothing of import. He needed help finding a book, that’s all.” Aziraphale smiled. 

Bee gave him an unreadable look before they returned to their studies, and Aziraphale sat back down next to Hastur. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Hastur asked gruffly. 

“I’m sure, thank you. Now let’s take a look at that essay.” 

**

Aziraphale spent the first Saturday in December in Crowley’s room deep into an essay. He was sprawled on Crowley’s bed on his back, head in Crowley’s cross-legged lap, laptop balanced against his thighs so he could type. Crowley, despite having notes spread around him, seemed far more occupied with running his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair than reading. 

“I don’t know how you’re even remotely comfortable,” Crowley commented. Aziraphale peered up at him. 

“Your lap is quite lovely.” They’d put a pillow on it to make it extra comfortable. Aziraphale had no complaints. 

“Mm.” Crowley considered him for a long moment. “Have you saved your essay?” 

“Dear, it is a google doc. It saves automatically.” 

“It is a google doc,” Crowley mocked gently. “Fine, you and your tech knowledge. Think you can take a break?” 

“Oh?” This puzzled Aziraphale as he double checked to make sure his document was indeed saved before he shut his laptop. “Did you want to go out and grab a bite or something?” 

Crowley reached over and took Aziraphale’s laptop, setting it carefully on the floor near the bed. “Something like that.” 

There was a moment where Aziraphale recognized the look in Crowley’s eyes and it brought color to his cheeks. “Ah.” 

“Up, angel,” Crowley nudged him and Aziraphale shifted off of Crowley’s lap and onto the bed proper, while Crowley all but rolled on top of him, straddling his waist. “Hello.” 

“Hello my dear,” Aziraphale murmured breathlessly as he reached up to draw his fingertips along the curve of Crowley’s cheek, then traced his lower lip with his thumb. Crowley nipped it. 

It amazed him sometimes how affectionate Crowley was, how easy it was for him to slip into it. Whether it was his hand against Aziraphale’s lower back while they walked somewhere together or his fingertips teasing up along the inside of Aziraphale’s clothed thigh, Crowley moved with confidence and fierce, never fading adoration. 

It was a lot. They’d still not done anything past some heavy makeout sessions, but even this - the weight of Crowley’s full attention - was too much sometimes. Aziraphale’s breath hitched as Crowley leaned down and stole a kiss, and then another, the hand creeping up his thigh coming to rest at home on his hip. The tips of his fingers slipped under the hem of Aziraphale’s shirt and sweater, warm against his skin. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said fondly on an exhale as he buried his fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another kiss. This one was open mouthed, involving clacking teeth and frantic tongues until Crowley switched the angle and licked into his mouth. Then it was nothing but heat drifting from his mouth into his belly, growing between the two of them as he tugged on Crowley’s hair and Crowley rucked up Aziraphale’s shirt to touch his stomach and sides more fully. 

It made Aziraphale flinch, it always did, the muscles of his stomach jumping with surprise. And as always, or at least once Crowley figured out how self-conscious he was about his middle, Crowley hushed him, a soft soothing sound against his mouth as his hand became firmer and his kisses followed suit. 

Aziraphale melted beneath the attention, his free hand slipping beneath Crowley’s shirt in the back in order to feel up along the line of his back. His fingers traced smooth muscles, moving as Crowley shifted incrementally above him. There was so much power contained in such a lithe, lean body, and Aziraphale was endlessly fascinated by it. 

Crowley’s mouth moved away from his. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth before he trailed wet kisses over his jaw and down his throat. Now  _ this _ was Aziraphale’s favorite part so far, Crowley’s mouth against his neck, his hand giving up its exploration of his waist to guide his head back to make more space to work. Aziraphale liked it perhaps a little too much, because a few times he’d come away from this with telltale marks on his neck that were an indication of his and Crowley’s mutual enthusiasm. Their friends had teased them about it. 

Right now, he focused on the way it made his mind shut off. Everything was Crowley’s lips brushing against his skin, his tongue tasting him, his teeth scraping gently and sending delicious vibrations through his whole being. Aziraphale whined and it was a quiet, wretched thing that he was never able to quite force down, not when they were like this, with Crowley sucking gently on his throat, holding him in place. 

Finally, Crowley’s weight shifted off of him as he sat back on his legs for a moment, eyes roaming over Aziraphale in his prone state. He huffed and tilted his head to try and catch Crowley’s eyes and it worked. They smiled at each other. This, Aziraphale learned, was a quiet invitation. Crowley was the more affectionate of the two. It wasn’t so much that Aziraphale didn’t  _ want _ to be affectionate, but rather he was often nervous about it. Aziraphale had never been good at touching people, never sure where to put his hands or his mouth. He’d always felt a bit too clumsy. 

There was also the guilt of his upbringing. It was easier to have things done  _ to _ him. There was plausible deniability, not that he would ever need it. No one watched them, no one knew exactly what they shared between each other. Yet years of being told his wants and desires were wrong things to have added to his hesitance. 

But Crowley tried to give him the space to take the lead, to try new things. So he struggled to sit up and then reached out to tug Crowley closer. Crowley came, settled on his knees between Aziraphale’s legs on the bed. He reached up and tentatively cupped Crowley’s cheek with one hand, marveling at the warmth and the fetching flush of his skin, before he leaned in and kissed him. Crowley hummed against his lips and it was a blessed thing. 

Instead of deepening the kiss, Aziraphale pressed another to his chin, lips scraping against scruff, then nudged him with his nose until Crowley tilted his head back. Then he kissed beneath his chin, and his adam’s apple, and then down his throat. They were soft kisses, his tongue a barely-there thing as he tasted the salt on Crowley’s skin with small little licks. 

Crowley whined softly and it was enough to drive Aziraphale to shyly open his mouth and suck. He did so gently, of course, all too careful about leaving marks. He nipped, then licked, and Crowley’s fingers tangled in his curls and held firm. 

“That is good, angel,” Crowley whispered, out of breath. “So good.” 

Aziraphale preened. He then put a firm hand on Crowley’s shoulder and pushed, tipping them both over so that Crowley was pinned beneath him. One of Crowley’s long legs went instinctively around Aziraphale’s hips, the heel of his foot resting against the back of his thigh. 

Lovely golden eyes peered up at him and Aziraphale pressed their lips together in a slightly more desperate kiss, allowing himself to relax and unravel as Crowley’s fingers rubbed at his scalp and down the back of his neck. He whined into Crowley’s mouth then broke away, kissing his way to Crowley’s ear which he nibbled at while Crowley tilted his hips up and ground them up against Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale froze, a whimper torn from his throat. Crowley stilled. 

“Angel?” He asked, stroking the nape of Aziraphale’s neck. “Too fast?” 

Aziraphale nodded, sighing, dropping his forehead to Crowley’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled. It was all so wonderful, his body buzzing with pleasure, heat, and arousal, but there was something in his mind that couldn’t let him get past  _ this _ stage. 

“No apologies, ever,” Crowley insisted, his hand resting firm and warm against the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “We go at your pace. I like anything we do together and it doesn’t bother me.” 

“I know.” And some part of him  _ did _ know, but another part worried that this grace would only go so far. Eventually it would be expected that he perform and - 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered directly into his ear, “none of that now, love.” They’d talked about it all, about Aziraphale’s hang-ups, and Crowley had been nothing but loving and understanding. Aziraphale reached down and stole up Crowley’s free hand, leaning back so he could bring it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, then to the middle of his forearm, and the inside of his elbow. 

He saw a smile spread across Crowley’s lips in the peripheral. He eventually laced their fingers together and pinned their joined hands to the bed, much like Crowley had not long ago, and leaned in to kiss him again. 

“Our pace,” Aziraphale finally said, looking down at Crowley. “We’ll go at  _ our _ pace, not just mine.” 

“Our pace, angel.” Crowley promised as he brushed his fingers fondly against Aziraphale’s cheek. 

**

The semester ended in a frantic haze of late nights and a lot of caffeine. Crowley didn’t mind it too terribly, because he spent most of his crazy nights with Aziraphale even as they worked separately on assignments. That was the most amazing thing about Aziraphale, he thought: he could be in the same room with him, doing something completely different than he was, and be perfectly content. 

Really, it was harder to be away from him. 

Hastur and Ligur lugged their duffle bags out into the living room the Saturday after finals as Crowley stood there and watched them. 

“So you’re off for a bit then?” He asked. 

“Aye, Hastur’s gonna spend the holidays with my lot. M’parents love this idiot for some reason,” Ligur said, shaking his head. 

“S’cause I put up with your sorry arse all the time.” Hastur grinned and leaned over to press a kiss to Ligur’s cheek. “They’re just trying to get you married off.” 

“Oh hush yer mouth,” Ligur grumbled, turning to press a kiss to Hastur’s lips instead. 

“Ugh,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Enough with the PDA. Aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” 

“With that comment I ought ta have you right here, my love,” Ligur said, voice dripping with false affection. Hastur snorted. “We could give Crowley a show.” 

“You’re both the worst. You can stay away, you know. Forever.” 

“You’d be bored without us,” Hastur replied. “What are your plans? Going to go see your mum?” 

“Yeah, I’ll spend Christmas day with her.” It was his usual tradition. He’d go early enough to go to church with her in the morning, then stay for lunch between the two of them. Sometimes they’d watch Christmas movies through the afternoon, sometimes not. 

“What about Aziraphale?” Hastur shouldered his bag. “Never heard what his plans were.” 

“He’s staying here, sounds like. Said he’s got some work to do in the library over the break. Apparently Madame Tracy wants to do inventory or something, I don’t know. I was thinking I could invite him to Christmas with my mum but I’m not sure.” Crowley grimaced. “Might be too much?” 

Ligur looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. 

“That boy is head over heels for ya. If he’s gonna be here, you’d be a bloody idiot if you didn’t invite him to yer mum’s,” Ligur said and Crowley huffed a laugh. 

“You’re right.” And Ligur was, but Crowley still felt uneasy about inviting Aziraphale  _ home _ . Being together on campus was one thing but meeting family? That was a whole different level of intimate. 

“Often am,” Ligur replied, then his phone began to beep. “Shit, we gotta get goin’ if we’re gonna catch the train. Have a happy Christmas, Crowley. Give yer mum our best, yeah?” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” Crowley smiled. They exchanged hugs and farewells before Ligur and Hastur disappeared out the front door. A few moments later there came a knock. 

“Angel!” It was Aziraphale standing on the other side of the door, looking a bit out of breath. 

“I meant to be here earlier! I nearly missed saying goodbye to Ligur and Hastur.” He huffed and shook his head. Now that Crowley looked, he seemed a bit out of sorts, his shirt only half tucked in and a wrinkled sweater thrown haphazardly over top. 

“Everything alright?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale took a breath and glanced down at himself, his cheeks turning a bit red. 

“I was in a hurry. I overslept and when I realized I was supposed to be here by now I grabbed some things off the floor and threw them on.” Aziraphale looked a bit mortified by it. “I’m sorry, I ought to go get cleaned -” 

Crowley yanked him into a kiss before he could finish that sentence. “You look perfect,” he murmured, and he wasn’t lying. A rumpled, out of breath Aziraphale was a sight to behold. Usually it took a lot of Crowley’s time and effort to make him look so out of sorts but here he was, already a bit of a mess but beautiful in spite of it. 

Someone down the hall whistled as they left their room and Crowley realized they were standing in the doorway. 

“Can I come in?” Aziraphale asked shyly and Crowley laughed and ushered him inside. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Crowley admitted, closing the door. Aziraphale toed off his shoes and walked over to the couch, dropping onto it. 

“Tea, angel?” Crowley asked as he made his way into the kitchen. 

“Oh yes, that would be lovely.” 

Crowley put the kettle on to boil and tracked down two mugs and tea bags. 

“You said you are staying here for Christmas, right?” Crowley asked from the kitchen. 

“Mmhm,” came Aziraphale’s reply. “Afraid I don’t have any plans as of yet but I’m sure there’s something I can do on Christmas day.” 

“You could come spend it with me then,” Crowley said and it was easier to offer it when he didn’t have to look at Aziraphale. However, he heard footsteps soon after and Aziraphale’s fluffy curls appeared in the entryway to the kitchen. 

“You want to spend Christmas with me?” Aziraphale sounded awed. 

Crowley rested his hands on the edge of the counter and glanced over at Aziraphale. “Of course I do. I spend the day with my mum usually. We go to church, do lunch.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be an imposition.” What irked Crowley was the way Aziraphale said it. Some people said phrases like that to be polite, to accept without overtly accepting. Aziraphale sounded downright honest, as if he really believed he could ever be an imposition. 

“You wouldn’t be, angel.” The kettle started to boil but this was far more important. Crowley crossed over to Aziraphale who, as he usually did, glanced at the ground shyly. “Hey, come on now.” Crowley cupped his face in his hands and tilted it up to look into his beautiful blue eyes. He pressed a kiss between his eyebrows. 

“I don’t want to come between you and your mother,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Family time is special.” 

“Yeah, and you’re my family too.” Crowley leaned his forehead against Aziraphale’s. “And I want to be with you on Christmas, and I bet my mum would be delighted. She’ll love you.” 

Something in Aziraphale appeared to break at that as his eyes filled with tears. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley panicked, trying to figure out what he’d said wrong. “I’m sorry, what did I say? Oh please don’t cry, love.” He brushed the tears away with his thumbs as Aziraphale closed his eyes and sniffled. 

“I miss having a family of my own,” Aziraphale whispered and Crowley’s heart broke as he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him close. Aziraphale buried his face against Crowley’s shoulder, his own shoulders shaking as he cried. He felt Aziraphale’s fingers curling in the back of his shirt and Crowley squeezed him gently, pressed his cheek to the top of his head. 

“You have a family, Aziraphale. I know it isn’t the same,” Crowley began to rub his back. “It isn’t the same as having your parents and I’m so,  _ so _ sorry that you’ve been alone for so long. But you have me, and Hastur and Ligur, and Bee, and Dagon. We’re your family, we’re all on our own side of things, and we have each other’s backs now.” 

Aziraphale hiccuped, sniffling more as it sounded like he tried to contain his tears. 

“You’ll see,” Crowley murmured into his hair. “We’ll have a good Christmas. My mum will love you and you will love her, and we’ll grow your family just a little more right? I promise, Aziraphale. It’ll be okay.” 

The kettle boiled, but Crowley kept holding onto Aziraphale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I love chatting. Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com).


	16. The Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale spends Christmas with Crowley and his mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is always a little weird writing a holiday chapter when we're so far away from the holidays...but I hope it is cute nonetheless! I've been doing my best to catch up on comment replies. My week will thankfully slow down a little now. Thank you all for your continued support and excitement. It makes it more fun to write when people are enjoying it as much as I am!

“Angel, come _ on _.” Crowley leaned in the doorway of the bathroom and peered over as Aziraphale fussed in front of the mirror. 

“I’m meeting your mother,” Aziraphale huffed as he fixed his bowtie for the umpteenth time. His hands shook, which he tried to conceal from Crowley, and made it difficult for him to get the knot just right. “I want to look presentable.” 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley crossed over and Aziraphale was turned, his hands batted away as Crowley undid the bowtie and proceeded to retie it. “You’re more than presentable. You are easily the most presentable person I’ve ever brought into that house and she is going to adore you, sweater vest and all.” 

“You don’t like the sweater vest.” Aziraphale glanced down and nearly bumped Crowley’s hands as he tried to look at his sweater. He’d chosen a white dress shirt and a powder blue sweater vest with snowflakes on it. The tie matched the pattern on the sweater. “It isn’t going to be appropriate for church is it...I ought to change.” 

“I swear to God Herself that if you try to change again I’m going to drag you out of this place with _ no _ clothes on. We’re already up at a god awful hour to get to my mum’s place in time to go to church this morning, I can’t handle a fashion crisis too.” Crowley shook his head and Aziraphale’s heart sank. 

“I’m sorry I’m being a bear -” 

Crowley silenced him with one kiss and then another, running his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. He had the passing thought that he’d have to brush his hair again, but then Crowley _ tugged _ and Aziraphale gasped into his mouth and reached out to curl his fingers in Crowley’s shirt. 

Crowley turned him and pressed him up against the wall near the shower and continued to kiss him, keeping a firm grip on his hair as he aligned their bodies. Finally, Aziraphale turned his head to miss the next kiss with a whine, panting. 

“You,” Crowley whispered hotly into his ear, “are not a bear, not a burden, not anything except _ hot _.” Aziraphale shivered and turned his head to brush his nose against Crowley’s cheek, letting out a sigh. 

“I’m nervous,” he admitted weakly. 

“You don’t say,” Crowley said with good humor as the hand in Aziraphale’s hair gentled, fingers rubbing at his scalp. “It’ll be alright. You trust me, right?” 

“Of course.” Aziraphale did, implicitly. Completely. 

“Then trust me when I say my mother is going to be delighted, church will be a breeze, and then my mum will try to convince us to stay the night and we’ll probably be persuaded which is why I’ve got toiletries and a change of clothes for both of us in my bag.” Crowley smiled and pressed a kiss to the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. 

He really had thought of everything and Aziraphale forced his shoulders to relax. 

“Alright?” Crowley asked as he pressed their foreheads together. Aziraphale nodded. 

“Alright. I just need to grab a couple more things and then we can be on our way.” 

“Sure, angel.” Crowley stepped away and Aziraphale slipped by and into Crowley’s room. The bed was a rumpled mess from where they’d been sleeping the past few nights and Aziraphale straightened the comforter over the tangle of sheets. Then he grabbed a bag beside the bed, gift wrapped in a Christmas themed bag with white and red tissue paper sticking out the top. 

He met up with Crowley in the living room where they put on their shoes. 

“You got my mum a gift?” Crowley asked, nodding toward the gift bag as Aziraphale shouldered his book bag. 

“I did. I thought it was the least I could do since she’s hosting me for Christmas.” 

There was something soft and fond in Crowley’s expression but it disappeared when Crowley checked his phone for the time. “Shit, we’ve really got to get going.” 

They left, making their way across London to a little apartment building in a nice enough neighborhood. Crowley led him up two flights of stairs to a white painted door with a beautiful Christmas wreath adorning it. He knocked, waited, and Aziraphale heard footsteps. 

The door swung open and there stood a tall, lithe woman. She had curly red hair that hung just past her shoulders with streaks of grey at the temples. Her eyes were golden-brown, not as pale as Crowley’s, and her face lit up in a smile when she realized who it was that stood in front of them. 

“Anthony my love,” she greeted and he set down the duffle bag to hug her. She kissed the side of his head and then turned her attention to Aziraphale who shifted nervously beside Crowley. 

“Hello Ms. Crowley,” he greeted politely. “I’m Aziraphale…” 

“I know who you are my dear, come here.” She pulled him into a hug and he went willingly, hugging her back with one arm as she squeezed him and then stepped back. “I’m so pleased you were able to join us and please, call me Gwyn. Come on, step inside. I was just putting on my make-up. We’ll want to hustle so we don’t miss the service.” 

They were ushered inside and Aziraphale was directed to Crowley’s old bedroom which still boasted what he assumed were posters from his youth. They stuck their bags in there and then meandered back into the living room, Crowley’s arm around Aziraphale’s waist. 

“See?” He murmured into Aziraphale’s hair as he pressed a kiss to the side of his head, “she loves you already.” 

Aziraphale shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that, dear, but she seems very kind. Should I put this under the tree?” He lifted the gift bag. 

“Definitely.” 

Aziraphale reluctantly stepped out of Crowley’s grasp to wander over to a small, plastic Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. There weren’t many packages beneath it but he added his to it nonetheless and then returned to Crowley’s side. Crowley’s mother came out a moment later, adjusting a snowflake necklace around her neck. 

“I thought I could match you, Aziraphale.” She offered him a gentle smile. “I’m quite fond of your sweater.” 

He wondered if he was blushing because his cheeks went hot under the attention. Crowley grinned beside him. “Well thank you, I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate…” 

“Nonsense, we’re not formal around here. Come on, come on. We’ll never get seats if we get there too late.” 

She shepherded them out the door and they walked to a nearby church. It was a lovely building in Aziraphale’s opinion, with a pointed roof and weather beaten outer walls. It was also busy, folks streaming in from the street to the sound of organ music. He tried not to let it trip him up as he thought about Gabriel and his family who would be celebrating across the Atlantic without him for the first time in nearly a decade. 

“Okay, angel?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale nodded, glancing over. Gwyn had already disappeared into the crowd, greeting folks she was apparently familiar with. 

“New traditions.” Aziraphale hoped it was enough of an explanation because he wasn’t up to saying much more. 

“I’m glad we’re making them together.” Crowley laced their fingers together and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand before they trailed after Gwyn into the crowds. 

The service was about what Aziraphale expected. During the hymns he closed his eyes and listened to Crowley’s steady voice beside him, not entirely in tune but wonderful regardless. 

_ Thank You for bringing me to him _ Aziraphale thought as he opened his eyes and peered up at the stained glass just beyond the pulpit. It was a scene from the Garden of Eden. There were candles that flickered in the sunlit chapel and he took Crowley’s hand in his again, earning a curious glance. 

He shook his head and smiled at Crowley before he started singing again, letting his voice join all the others. 

_ Come let us adore Him _, he thought as the words left his mouth and music filled the space. 

**

Later that day, Crowley lay sprawled across the couch in the living room. They’d had a robust lunch and his mother had convinced them to stay for movies. He knew it was inevitable that they’d end up staying the night and was fine with that as his eyes drifted shut. Aziraphale had taken up one of the armchairs, his mother the other, and they quietly discussed the film as Crowley dozed. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said at some point, jogging him from his doze. The film had been switched to live television and Aziraphale now sat on the edge of the couch near Crowley’s legs. “Your mother has suggested we stay for the night.” 

“Told ya,” Crowley said with a sleepy grin. 

“Yes, I’m quite predictable I’m afraid,” his mother said from somewhere behind him. “You boys can take Crowley’s old room, assuming you don’t mind sharing a bed.” 

Aziraphale looked scandalized, which made Crowley’s grin widen. “S’okay, angel,” he said as he moved one of his legs to drape it across Aziraphale’s lap. 

“Of - of course,” he rested his hands on Crowley’s shin and rubbed gently. “I don’t mind staying.” 

“Good,” Crowley’s mom said as she stepped back into the living room. “Should we open gifts?” 

“Gifts?” Aziraphale echoed and then glanced at Crowley. Crowley squirmed up into a sitting position and then shifted to drape himself over Aziraphale’s shoulders, kissing his neck. 

“It is Christmas,” Crowley pointed out. “You brought a gift.” 

“Well yes but I didn’t...expect to exchange gifts.” He looked a bit panicked, a fish out of water, and Crowley squeezed him. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered into his ear and Aziraphale leaned into him. “I promise.” 

“Right,” Aziraphale whispered back. 

Eventually Crowley unwound himself from Aziraphale and headed over to the tree, picking up the few gifts beneath it. He handed Aziraphale’s to his mother, watching her face light up in surprise. There were matching rectangular boxes for he and Aziraphale which he set on the couch. 

“A moment,” Aziraphale implored as he got up and disappeared back into the hallway. He returned with a cube shaped box wrapped in gaudy paper. “This is for you, Crowley.” He set it on the couch next to the other gifts. 

“And this is for you, angel,” Crowley pulled a much smaller box out of his pocket and handed it over. 

“You should go first, Ms. Crowley,” Aziraphale said and Crowley did not miss his mother’s amused smile. 

“Certainly.” She pulled out the tissue paper and removed the gift gingerly. It was a round terrarium with a succulent in it, decorated with colorful rocks and crystals. She marveled at it and then looked over at Aziraphale, her eyes alight with affection that Crowley immediately recognized. 

“Oh Aziraphale this is lovely.” She admired it, turning it this way and that before she set it reverently on the side table. “I’ll be sure to find the perfect place for it.” 

“Excellent.” Aziraphale blushed and looked down at his lap. 

“Now the two of you should open the gifts, the ones from me first if you please.” She nodded toward the rectangular packages. Crowley tore into his and watched as Aziraphale was far more refined, undoing the tape and unwrapping the package carefully so as to not make a mess. 

Inside the boxes were cashmere sweaters. Crowley’s was a rich, deep maroon. Aziraphale’s a starry night blue. 

“It is beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered as he ran his fingers over the soft fabric and then looked up at Crowley’s mother. “Thank you so much, you certainly didn’t...well. Thank you.” 

“Thanks mum,” Crowley echoed as he leaned over and kissed Aziraphale’s cheek. “Now open mine, Aziraphale.” 

“We ought to open them at the same time,” Aziraphale insisted as he picked up his tiny box. 

“Fine, fine.” Crowley picked up the cube and they began to unwrap them at the same time. Crowley’s wrapping paper was tossed carelessly to the floor as he revealed the box underneath. It was a lamp, but not any lamp. It was a lamp that would cast stars onto the ceiling and wall, creating galaxies inside. 

He stared at it, touched and amazed. Then he glanced up at Aziraphale who had stopped unwrapping his gift to nervously take in Crowley’s reaction. 

“I hope you like it. If not I can certainly return it and find some-” 

He wasn’t able to finish the sentence, Crowley made sure of it, as he yanked Aziraphale into a warm but chaste kiss. There would be time for a more thorough thanking later. “It is perfect, angel. Now open your damn gift.” 

Aziraphale laughed and opened his gift, lifting a pair of sterling silver angel wing cufflinks from the box. 

“Oh Crowley,” he gasped and turned them over in his hand before he looked up and smiled. It was the most beautiful thing in the world, Crowley decided, to see his angel smile like that.  
  
“Thought you should have wings to go with the name,” he said, and Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him. 

They spent some time chatting in the post-gift haze, Crowley’s mom politely inquiring into Aziraphale’s studies and his job at the library. Aziraphale shared about how he met Crowley and as the night grew late, politely excused himself as he’d like to take a shower and get ready for bed. 

He kissed Crowley on the forehead before he disappeared down the hallway. 

“So,” Crowley’s mom began. Crowley knew this conversation would happen eventually. 

“Yes?” Crowley asked as he flopped back onto the couch and pulled a pillow to his chest. 

“He is a very sweet boy,” she began, giving him a look. “You’re besotted.” 

Crowley groaned. “Of _ course _ I am. Have you seen him? He’s...I can’t even begin to explain to you how lovely he is.”

“I’d like to hear you try,” his mother replied with a small smile.

He took a moment to think about it. How could he condense down everything Aziraphale was to him? “He’s the best of us” was what he settled on, sighing. “Kind, considerate, gentle, but he’s got a fierce streak in him. A strength and resilience that I envy sometimes. He walks through the world looking to do good and love people and I’m not sure if there's anyone out there quite like him.” 

“Likely not,” his mother answered as she sat back in her chair and considered him. “He’s certainly the most considerate boy you’ve brought home.” 

“Mum!” Crowley groaned as he put a pillow over his face. 

“And you’ve brought a few of them, love. I’m glad you’re finally refining your taste,” she teased. 

“You’re the worst,” Crowley grumbled into the pillow. 

Aziraphale returned eventually dressed in pajama pants and a button up pajama shirt. 

“I’m ready for bed, admittedly.” He offered Crowley’s mom a sheepish smile. “But I wanted to say thank you and to wish you a happy Christmas.” 

“And a happy Christmas to you too, Aziraphale,” she said as she stood and hugged him. He hugged her back, and Crowley watched as he pressed his cheek to her shoulder and closed his eyes. She leaned in and whispered something Crowley couldn’t hear into his ear and he watched as Aziraphale tilted his face and hid it in her shoulder, his cheeks flushed red. 

Eventually she kissed his forehead and sent him on his way. 

“I’ll meet you in there, angel,” Crowley assured him before Aziraphale disappeared once more. He rolled off of the couch and walked over to his mom, accepting her embrace. “What did you say to him?” 

“What I think he needed to hear from a mother on Christmas,” she replied. “I love you, Anthony.” 

“I love you too mum, happy Christmas.” 

“Happy Christmas.” She ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. “Now go see to your boyfriend.” 

He headed down the hallway and to his old bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. Aziraphale’s eyes followed him as he stripped down to boxers and pulled on an oversized t-shirt before he shut off the lights. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped and Crowley blushed in the darkness. He’d forgotten: there were glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. “Crowley…” 

“I know, they’re childish. I forgot about them…” he grumbled as he crawled beneath the covers and snuggled close to Aziraphale. 

“Hardly. They’re beautiful.” In the dim light from the window, Crowley could see the outline of Aziraphale’s upturned face. He was staring up at the stars as if they were real. 

“Yeah.” He huffed and finally looked up at them, taking a moment to try and appreciate them as much as Aziraphale did. They were still nice, he decided. “Your lamp’ll be better.” 

“I do hope so. You really liked it?” Now Aziraphale turned his head to look at Crowley. 

“I loved it, angel.” Crowley reached out and cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, leaning forward to press their lips together. Aziraphale hummed and squirmed forward to push their bodies flush together. 

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured when he broke the kiss, closing his eyes as if he expected some sort of impact to come after. 

“Hey,” Crowley kissed his nose, “look at me, angel.” 

Aziraphale exhaled a shaky sigh and opened his eyes, staring at Crowley in the dark. 

“I love you too,” Crowley said, tipping their foreheads together. “Dearly.” 

Aziraphale made a soft ‘oh’ sound and then leaned forward and kissed him fiercely, tongue trailing over Crowley’s lower lip, weight bearing down on him as he pressed Crowley onto his back and into the bed. 

“Angel,” Crowley groaned when Aziraphale pressed their hips flush together and panted into his neck as he pressed kisses along the line of his throat. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale said again and Crowley tangled his fingers in his curls. “I love you.” He kissed down to Crowley’s collarbone and let one of his hands slip under Crowley’s shirt, palm warm and sure against his abdomen as his muscles twitched beneath the attention. 

“I love you,” Crowley echoed. “I love you more than the stars, more than the moon, more than - ah, shit, Aziraphale.” He pressed his head back into the mattress as Aziraphale bit down on his collarbone, just above the v-neck collar of his sleeping shirt. 

“Sorry,” Aziraphale mumbled against his skin as he lapped at it apologetically. 

“Mm.” Crowley relaxed and trailed his hand to the nape of Aziraphale’s neck. “No need to apologize. S’good.” 

“I want…” Aziraphale hovered above him, peering down. “Ah, well...er.” 

Crowley reached up and brushed his fingers over his cheek. “Yeah?” 

“Mmhm.” Crowley wished there was enough light to see his blush. 

“You’ll have to be quiet,” Crowley whispered with a grin as he leaned up and rolled them, pinning Aziraphale to the bed beneath him. “But I want you, too.” 

“Please,” Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley rolled their hips together. “I love you.” 

“I’m going to show you just how much I love you, Aziraphale.” Crowley said, nearly overwhelmed by what was being offered. He leaned down and kissed Aziraphale’s throat, nipping at his pulse. He had wanted to thoroughly thank him, after all.

Aziraphale whined and Crowley decided not to make him wait any longer. 

Later, their clothes rumpled and bodies tangled together, they gazed up at the dimly glowing stars on the ceiling. 

"Are you alright?" Crowley asked, gently running his hand over Aziraphale's waist, smoothing down his sleeping shirt. 

"Quite," Aziraphale replied as he turned and tucked his face into the side of Crowley's neck. "You're, ah, quite adept." 

Crowley wiggled his fingers against Aziraphale's belly, tickling him, enjoying the way he squirmed. "Talented hands." He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's temple. 

"We could do it again sometime. Perhaps you could let me...ah. You know." 

Crowley hummed and reached up to run his fingers through Aziraphale's hair. "There's no pressure, love." 

"I know but I'd _like_ to," he replied a bit petulantly. 

"Then I'm thankful you share this with me. I hope you know I'm the luckiest man on earth." 

Aziraphale tilted his head back to look at Crowley in the darkness then leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you," he reminded him. 

Crowley lived for those words. Yearned for them. "I love you too." 

Aziraphale settled back against him, seeming satisfied. 

“Happy Christmas,” Crowley whispered after a moment, brushing a ghost of a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. 

“And to you, my dear,” Aziraphale replied. 

They fell asleep beneath the pretend stars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Just wanna chat about Good Omens? Have short prompts you'd like to submit? All of that and more if you come talk with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com)!


	17. New Year, New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale begins to notice Gabriel's odd behavior. Crowley surprises him with another date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the end y'all. Tomorrow morning I'll post the last chapter which, I hope, will kindly wrap all of this up for you. This has been such a wonderful experience and I'm so, SO grateful for all the feedback and comments and love this story has brought along with it. For now, I hope you enjoy another soft chapter with just a smidge of plot.

Second semester came too quickly as it was wont to do. Aziraphale couldn’t begrudge it too much. He’d enjoyed the holidays and spent most of his free time with Crowley, when he wasn’t helping Madame Tracy do inventory in the library. Despite that, he was ready for the steady tempo of classes once again. 

Plus, the new semester meant the rest of his friends finally returned to campus. Sunday Worship started back up much to his delight and he found a whole slew of new books to suggest. 

One Monday he hurried across campus, rain coming down around him when he saw something strange. Gabriel was also out on the campus grounds, umbrella in hand. That wasn’t the strange part. What was strange was the much smaller person walking beside him beneath the umbrella, gesturing and clearly in deep conversation. 

Bee was with Gabriel, sharing an umbrella, and neither of them looked like they were biting each other’s heads off. However, Aziraphale didn’t have time to investigate further. He was already late for class so he left it for another time. 

Another time didn’t really come, but he did notice in the coming weeks that he would sometimes spot Gabriel and Bee together, talking. It left him unsettled and a bit worried, but he was mostly curious. What were they discussing? When had they become friends? 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked one day, standing at the reference desk as he read the same line in a book for the tenth time and still didn’t process it. Crowley had dragged a chair behind the reference desk and was scribbling down some homework when he glanced over. 

“Angel?” he raised his eyebrows. 

“Have you noticed Bee hanging out more with Gabriel recently?” He looked over at Crowley, frowning. 

“Uh,” Crowley looked confused, “no? But I mean, I don’t really keep track of what Bee’s up to. Why?” 

“I’ve just been seeing them together on campus recently and it surprised me. I didn’t think they particularly liked each other.” There it was again, that uneasy feeling, like he was being left out of something important or relevant to him.

“You could ask Bee,” Crowley suggested. 

Aziraphale huffed. “I  _ could _ ,” he replied. Crowley snorted. 

“Or you can continue to theorize, up to you.” Crowley shrugged. “Whatever the case I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Bee can take care of themselves.” 

“Indeed.” Aziraphale still worried. 

**

“Gabriel!” Aziraphale saw him sitting in one of the student lounges and walked over. He’d not gotten a chance to talk to him since the holidays and they were nearly a month into the new semester. 

Gabriel startled and dropped his phone. He grabbed for it, pulling it to his chest and looking at Aziraphale as if he’d just been caught looking at pornography. Perhaps he had. 

“I’m sorry, dear boy, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Aziraphale offered him what he thought was a reassuring smile, but Gabriel still regarded him with a solid dose of suspicion. It made Aziraphale’s stomach twist uncomfortably. “Is everything alright?” He tried to keep the nervous waver out of his voice and didn’t succeed. 

Gabriel seemed to sober a bit at that. “Yes, just fine Aziraphale. How were the holidays? My parents missed you.” 

“And I missed them,” Aziraphale said, telling the truth. He wouldn’t have traded his experience for it, but Gabriel’s parents had always been kind to him. “However, I did have a lovely time here. I spent Christmas day with Crowley and his mother.” 

“Indeed.” Gabriel fidgeted, which was a strange look on him. Usually it was Aziraphale who was the fidgeter. “I’m glad you had a good time. Are you off to class?” 

“No, no. Just came from class. I was going to stop by my dorm and get some reading done before my shift at the library.” 

Gabriel’s gaze drifted to something behind Aziraphale and his eyes widened, snapping back to him. “Great, right, yeah. Well. You should - uh, not let me keep you.” 

“Gabriel…” Aziraphale frowned. “Are you sure everything is alright?” 

“‘Sup nerds,” Bee said as they appeared beside Aziraphale, walking past him to flop onto one of the chairs beside Gabriel. “Hi Aziraphale.” 

“Hello,” his frown shifted into a smile as he glanced between the two of them. “Were you both meeting about something?” 

“Yes, sharing notes. I missed class the other day and Bee here happens to have them…” 

“You’re full of shit, Gabe.”  _ Gabe! _ Aziraphale almost laughed. Gabriel glowered in Bee’s direction. “I am sharing notes but they’re not from a class. Did you read the article I sent you?” 

“I was just in the process of it when Aziraphale stopped by,” Gabriel explained, clearing his throat nervously. “I didn’t get through all of it.” 

Bee rolled their eyes. “Should have read it before today. I’ll let it slide since you’ve been serious thus far about keeping up on your homework.” 

“Homework for what?” Aziraphale asked, feeling distinctly like his questions were being talked  _ around _ instead of answered. 

“LGBTQ-Plus one-oh-one,” Bee announced and Aziraphale watched Gabriel pale. “Gabe here agreed to some discussions about the community, to learn more.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure how to process that information. “That’s, well, that seems lovely…” 

“It is, when he reads the damn articles I send him.” Bee shook their head. 

“I was  _ trying _ . I do have actual classes, you know,” Gabriel shot back. 

“Excuses, excuses.” Bee waved their hand. “Well go on, get to reading. We’ve got an article to discuss.” They looked up at Aziraphale. “Sorry Zira, I need to kick you out of here. He needs to focus.” 

Aziraphale wanted to laugh but managed to contain it. He didn’t want to further discourage Gabriel from...well, whatever this was. “Certainly. I apologize for the interruption. I’m sure I’ll see you two soon enough.” 

He left. When he explained the whole thing to Crowley later his eyes lit up with delight. 

“I’m glad  _ someone _ is finally knocking some sense into him,” he said. 

Aziraphale still wasn’t sure how he felt about any of it. 

**

“I know you like your Friday shifts,” Crowley began as he walked up behind the couch and draped his arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders. “But I’m taking you out tonight. Anathema is covering for you.” 

“Oh?” Aziraphale tilted his head back to try and peer up at Crowley, his laptop on his lap. He’d been working on a short essay. “I  _ suppose _ I can allow that.” 

“Glad you’re willing to pencil me in angel.” Crowley reached up to trail his fingers over Aziraphale’s exposed throat. He felt Aziraphale swallow beneath his touch and watched his cheeks steadily turn pink. 

“Where are we going?” Aziraphale asked.

“Surprise.” Crowley liked surprising Aziraphale, enjoyed the look of awe when the surprise was finally revealed. 

“Do I at least get to know what I ought to wear?” Aziraphale frowned playfully. 

“Dress warmly. Like, England-in-winter warm.” 

“So we’re going to be outside,” Aziraphale looked as if he had some trepidations about it. “Should we really be out late at night in the winter?” 

“Trust me,” Crowley insisted. “And we won’t be out all night. Just for the first bit, and we can leave once it gets cold.” 

“Hmm.” Aziraphale appeared to consider it before he met Crowley’s gaze again. “Alright. I’ll dress warmly.” 

“Lovely.” He kissed Aziraphale’s forehead and then retreated into the kitchen to make tea. 

Later that evening he met Aziraphale outside of his dorm. His angel was dressed warmly as instructed, dressed in jeans that likely had long underwear beneath them and a big puffy coat. He had a tartan scarf wrapped around his neck and the jacket had a hood he could pull up. 

In his arm was a fuzzy blanket. 

“You can never be too prepared,” he insisted. “You said dress warmly.” 

“And you’ve done a splendid job. Come on, angel. Dagon is letting us borrow her car tonight.” He jingled the keys. “I’ve already got all the stuff we need in it.” 

They made their way to the parking lot and into Dagon’s car. Crowley checked to make sure the picnic basket and a box he needed were in the back seat before he put the car in drive and headed off. 

“We’re going a ways out then?” Aziraphale asked somewhat nervously. 

“Yes.” Crowley didn’t want to give away the surprise, but seeing Aziraphale fidget nearly did him in. “I promise we’ll be fine. We’re not going  _ that _ far out of the city. You’ll see.” 

Since it was an automatic, Aziraphale was able to reach over and steal Crowley’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I trust you.” 

Crowley knew the way well enough, he’d come out with his astronomy class a couple times since the first trip. It was a relatively well known spot for stargazing not too far out of the city. He parked in a dirt parking lot and stepped out of the car. From the back seat he grabbed a box and then called for Aziraphale. 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Would you mind taking the blankets and basket?” Crowley motioned to them as he walked over toward the grass with the box. 

“Of course,” he heard Aziraphale say as he gathered up the basket and the blankets they’d brought. 

Out in the field, Crowley unboxed the telescope he’d borrowed from his professor and began to set it up, kneeling in the grass. 

“Star gazing,” Aziraphale said, finally getting it. Crowley glanced over at him. 

“Yeah. This is where my class comes. I thought...well. There’s some rather spectacular views tonight and it is the first clear night in weeks. If there was going to be a chance to see the winter constellations it is tonight.” Crowley huffed and could see his breath in the air. Aziraphale flicked on a battery powered lantern that had been included in the basket. 

“Thanks,” Crowley murmured, setting his phone flashlight aside now that he had the steadier light. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aziraphale setting up a blanket on the grass with the picnic basket, his own blanket dumped on top of the other. 

Aziraphale sat down. “Oh, you brought hot chocolate.” 

“Of course, and marshmallows.” Crowley adjusted the view and then wandered over to sit next to Aziraphale who was pouring hot chocolate into mugs from a thermos. 

“It really is a clear night isn’t it,” Aziraphale remarked, gazing up at the clear sky around them. The steam from his hot chocolate rose steadily in front of him as he cupped it in his hands. He glanced at Crowley, blue eyes damn near glittering in the starlight. 

“That was the hope,” Crowley answered as he clutched his own hot chocolate, unable to tear his eyes away from Aziraphale’s face. His pale skin in the dim light cast by the stars and their little lantern looked almost like it was glowing, his curls practically ethereal atop his head. He nestled down into his scarf and Crowley smiled. 

“You’re beautiful you know that?” Crowley said softly, wondering if he mentioned it enough and how he got so lucky as to have this man sitting here beside him in the freezing cold of January. “You look like a real angel in this light.” 

“Oh hush,” Aziraphale rebuked gently, color rising to his cheeks. “I’m hardly an angel.” 

“I’d have to disagree.” Crowley leaned over and brushed his nose to one of Aziraphale’s cheeks. “You’re my angel.” 

“I love you, you sap,” Aziraphale mumbled, turning his head to kiss the tip of Crowley’s nose. 

They drank their hot chocolate in the stillness of the night, crickets and frogs singing their nightly song. 

“Tell me about the stars my love,” Aziraphale whispered as if he was scared to break the serenity of the night. 

“Gladly.” Crowley loved the stars. He knew so many of them by name, loved tracing the constellations and thinking about those who came before who looked to the sky and with their imaginations saw shapes and creatures. There was a beautiful history in the stars and he was drawn to it. 

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact people were made of pieces of the universe, too. 

“C’mon, come look through the telescope.” He helped Aziraphale find Saturn, pointed out Mars, shared all the planets they could find in the night sky. He quizzed Aziraphale on the names of some of his favorite constellations and watched Aziraphale’s eyes light up with joy whenever he remembered one. 

Eventually they lay wrapped up on the blanket together, Aziraphale’s much fluffier blanket around them. 

“I love you,” Crowley murmured against his cheek, warmer now that he had Aziraphale in his arms. 

“And I love you,” Aziraphale replied as he turned and brushed their lips together. They shared kisses as the moon rose high in the sky, hands drifting and wandering without any real direction except to connect, to experience each other. 

“It is cold,” Aziraphale finally admitted as he tucked his head against Crowley’s shoulder, nose buried against his jacket. 

“Just a little longer angel,” Crowley insisted as he looked out toward the horizon. 

“Just a little longer,” Aziraphale agreed as a shooting star fell from the sky and Crowley made a wish. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com)!


	18. To New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are had and it ends with Sunday worship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is folks: chapter 18. The final chapter. The end of this little story. This story was a bit of a whirlwind and I'm so glad I got to share it all with you. To all of you who have commented along the way: thank you. Comments are so rewarding and you all have made some great observations and given some wonderful feedback. To those who are reading after this has all been posted: thank you as well! I hope you enjoy this little story. 
> 
> As a note, I've **added** some dialogue to chapter 16 at the end. A very thoughtful reader pointed out that a post-sex conversation was possibly in order and I agreed. Feel free to go back to read a little bit of back-and-forth. Otherwise, this is the end! There will be more notes at the end but I hope you enjoy.

“Aziraphale, do you have a moment?” Gabriel stood at the reference desk and peered over it at Aziraphale. 

“I’m off shift in about five minutes, do you mind waiting?” Aziraphale took in the nervous look on Gabriel’s face and it made  _ him _ nervous. 

“No. Not at all. I’ll wait outside the library for you.” 

“Alright.” Aziraphale frowned as Gabriel disappeared from sight. He finished up his tasks for the shift just as Anathema approached the desk. 

“Gabriel is waiting outside the door,” she said with a frown. “Do you want me to go chase him off? Is he bothering you?” 

“Ah,” Aziraphale shook his head. “No, he came by a few minutes ago to ask to talk. He seemed nervous. Rather unlike him.” 

Anathema’s frown deepened. “Do you want me to go with you to talk to him?” 

“I don’t think that will be necessary, but if he becomes a problem I’ll come back here.” Aziraphale offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, because he was anything but reassured. 

“Right.” Anathema looked the same as he felt. “If he hurts you again Aziraphale, I’ll kick his ass.” 

“I know. You and the rest of my friends I’m sure. It’ll be alright. I’ll let you know how it goes.” He walked around the desk and she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug. Aziraphale returned it. 

“Text me,” she insisted. “Or come back. Whichever.” 

“I will.” Aziraphale bid her farewell and shouldered his bag, making his way out of the library. “Gabriel?” Gabriel looked up. “Let’s walk.” 

“Sure.” Gabriel fell into step beside him. They were silent until they stepped outside. 

“So…” Aziraphale began, trying to prompt Gabriel. 

“I need to apologize,” Gabriel said in a rush then stopped and took a deep breath. He stopped walking and Aziraphale did as well, standing in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Oh?” That was a surprise. Aziraphale watched Gabriel’s brow crinkle in thought. 

“Yes. I’ve been…” He hesitated and then finally looked at Aziraphale. “I’ve been terrible to you as of late. Really, before then. I’ve not been supportive. I’ve been judgmental instead of inquisitive. I’m not entirely sure if I can change but I’m trying to  _ learn _ .” 

Gabriel shoved his hands into his pockets for lack of anything else to do with them. His nervousness was written on his face and in the rigid line of his shoulders. 

“I was cruel to you. Mean. I said things I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry.” He looked at the ground. “I’ve always been under the impression that I was tasked to protect you, to make sure you went down the right path but I’m beginning to realize that the path I’m on might not be as right as I initially thought.” 

Silence hung between them and it took a minute for Gabriel to look back up at Aziraphale. 

“What’s brought this on?” Aziraphale asked, curiosity getting the better of him. “Not that I’m at all dismayed by your apology. I’m grateful for it, and accept it, but this is a rather large change of heart Gabriel.” 

“I’ve been learning,” Gabriel explained. “Reading. Talking. Trying to understand your community and I’m beginning to realize things are perhaps not as black and white as I wanted them to be.” 

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped closer. “And the fact I’m gay, and seeing another man?” 

There was a shadow of a grimace. “I’m not going to pretend I entirely understand, Aziraphale. But I’m trying. I want to. And at the end of the day you’re my brother and I still want to protect you. I can’t do that if I’m...if I’m the aggressor.” 

Brothers. It had been such a long time since Aziraphale felt the feeling was mutual. They’d grown up together and Gabriel had always been his defender, but he’d always doubted how Gabriel felt about him. Now, though, perhaps they  _ could _ be brothers. Or at least work toward it. 

“You not being there for Christmas was hard,” Gabriel mumbled, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it. “My parents kept bringing you up and it was my fault you weren’t there.” 

“Hush, Gabriel. It wasn’t your fault.” Aziraphale shook his head. “There were a lot of things at play and I’m not going to pretend that you were the sole reason I stayed here. I was serious when I said I needed to take time to figure out what my traditions are going to be, and who I’m going to be moving forward.” He reached out and touched Gabriel’s arm. 

“I love you, dear boy, I always have. And I’m grateful for this apology and I want you to know that you are forgiven. I can’t promise that you and I will always get along but if you’re willing to try then so am I.” Aziraphale squeezed Gabriel’s arm and then pulled him into a hug. 

Gabriel returned it, hugging Aziraphale tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel murmured into his hair. “I’m sorry, Zira.”

“You’re forgiven,” Aziraphale repeated. “I promise.” 

**

One Sunday, after Sunday Worship, Aziraphale joined Bee on the floor where they were pawing through a magazine. Crowley, Ligur, and Hastur were in the kitchen making all sorts of noise while Anathema and Dagon discussed witch-stuff with Newt politely listening. 

Bee glanced over at Aziraphale and offered him a little smile. “Hey.” 

“Hello.” He sat cross-legged, hands in his lap. “I had an interesting conversation with Gabriel.” 

Their eyebrows rose. “Oh?” 

“Yes. He said he’s been learning a few things and then apologized to me. That wouldn’t have anything to do with your LGBTQ-Plus lessons, would it?” 

Bee shrugged. “Might. I didn’t tell him to apologize to you, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve just been trying to teach him a few things, clear up some misconceptions. Sounds like he’s been doing some self-reflection.” 

“I think you’re selling your influence short,” Aziraphale pointed out, certain that Bee had done so much more than that. “Regardless, thank you. You certainly didn’t have to do anything for him, let alone take time to try to help him understand this community.” 

“I’ve met his type before,” Bee explained, their eyes drifting back to the magazine. “Sometimes people are stubborn and lost causes but other times they just don’t have the knowledge or vocabulary to begin talking about things. When you don’t know how to talk about it, you have a tendency to shut off any higher thought beyond feeling threatened. You clearly care about him, so I thought he was worth investing some time and energy in.” 

Tears pricked at the back of Aziraphale’s eyes. “You did this for me?” He whispered. 

“Oh shut up,” Bee blushed, color rising up in their cheeks as they stared harder at the magazine. “Maybe.” They glanced at him from the corner of their eye. “Don’t let it go to your head.” 

Aziraphale shifted onto his knees and pulled Bee into a hug. They went willingly, wrapping their arms around his waist and nestling against his chest. 

“Thank you, my dear,” he whispered into their hair. “For this and for so much more.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Bee murmured, gently pulling away after a moment. “Seriously, don’t mention it. The last thing I need is to tarnish my well earned reputation. I don’t want everyone thinking I’ll help just any nerd off the street.” 

Aziraphale laughed. “I’ll keep my lips sealed.” 

**

On a stormy Saturday night well into the heart of February, Crowley sat curled up on the couch with Aziraphale in his arms. Aziraphale had drifted off about fifteen minutes before, lost to the drone of  _ Pride & Prejudice _ playing in the background. Crowley gently carded his fingers through Aziraphale’s soft hair as he snuffled in his sleep. 

Hastur and Ligur had left for the weekend, set to return early Monday morning which meant Crowley had the run of their apartment. Aziraphale had slept over and Crowley saw visions of a future together, sitting like this on a weekend after a long week of work, growing older, cooking dinners together. 

“I love you,” he whispered to a sleeping Aziraphale. Aziraphale said nothing, but he nuzzled against Crowley’s shoulder and settled again. 

**

As Aziraphale’s friends settled in Crowley’s living room for Sunday Worship there was a knock at the door. Curious, and closest to the door, he rose to answer it at the same time as Bee got up from the ground and to their feet. The door was pulled open and Aziraphale was surprised to see Gabriel there, standing with his hands in his pockets looking a bit out of place. 

“Aziraphale,” he greeted and glanced beyond him to what Aziraphale presumed were curious sets of eyes. 

“Gabriel. I’m afraid we were just settling in for Sunday Worship. Ah, did you need something?” Aziraphale worried the book in his hands. 

“No, no, I’m uh, actually here for that. For Sunday Worship. Bee invited me?” He sounded unsure and looked beyond Aziraphale again. Bee appeared at Aziraphale’s elbow. 

“I did,” they said. “C’mon, there’s still snacks.” 

Aziraphale stepped back to let Gabriel inside and closed the door after him. Gabriel took off his shoes and padded into the living room after Bee. He waved awkwardly, half-heartedly really, and then looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale. 

“Coming?” He asked, then hesitated. “Is this alright?” Gabriel glanced around the room. 

“Of course it is alright,” Aziraphale insisted as he shook off his shock and walked back over to take his spot on the couch next to Crowley. “Please, sit. We’re glad to have you.” 

“Well, I actually...I wanted to say something first, if that’s alright?” Gabriel looked to the group for permission and when they realized it was a question, there was murmured assent from around the room. 

“I feel as if I owe all of you an apology,” he began. “I’ve been an ass, to put it bluntly.” Bee looked pleased by this admission. “And in the process I’ve treated all of you poorly. I’m, well, I’m trying to understand more about a lot of things and I’m grateful for the chance to learn. My only hope is that all of you will be patient and be willing to extend a bit of grace my way as it happens.” 

It was strange, Aziraphale thought, to see Gabriel so out of his element and at the mercy of others. 

“If you’ll have me, I’d like to join you weekly for this. Sunday Worship.” He fell silent and looked at Aziraphale who tried to offer him a reassuring smile. 

“Oi, you vouch for him, Bee?” Ligur asked. 

“I do,” Bee replied.

“Then sure,” Hastur said with a shrug. “Sit your ass down so Aziraphale can read already.” 

It was Gabriel’s turn to look shocked. Aziraphale watched the expression of surprise creep over his face. Certainly he’d expected to be berated, to have to  _ earn _ his grace. But, Aziraphale thought, that missed the whole point of grace didn’t it? 

He smiled at the thought and glanced at Crowley who apparently didn’t have eyes for anyone except Aziraphale. 

“Okay, angel?” Crowley asked quietly before he leaned in and pressed a fond kiss to Aziraphale’s temple. 

“Quite, my love,” Aziraphale whispered back, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he basked in Crowley’s warmth. Then he looked at Gabriel and watched as he took a seat next to Bee on the floor. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but glance around the room, taking in each and every one of the faces there. Dagon, Bee, Hastur, Ligur, Anathema, Newt,  _ Crowley _ , Gabriel. All of them were sitting together, crammed into a much-too-small apartment, all waiting patiently for Aziraphale to read. 

As he lifted the book up and flipped to the correct page he wondered how on earth he’d managed to get this lucky. 

He smiled into the pages and began to read, surrounded by his family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. Thank you again for all the support and love. I hope everyone enjoys my little found family fic. 
> 
> I am an open book so if you ever want to chat Good Omens, come hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com). I love chatting with people and I love love LOVE prompts! So if there's any little scenes you want to see from _search terms_ or anything else you'd love to see me churn out a ficlet about...hit me up! 
> 
> Thanks again. I love each and every once of you!


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